


Alternate Universe Bingo Drabbles

by Kairin16



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types, Phantom of the Opera (2004), Super Mario Bros., X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Activism, Aliens, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Alternate Universe: Anime, Alternate Universe: Music Video, Alternate Universe: Video Game, Ancient Civilization, Angels, Apprenticeship, Assassins & Hitmen, Auto Racing, Ghosts, Government, Immortality, Immortals, Lawyers, M/M, Mirror Universe, News Media, Royalty, Slavery, Spaceships, Spies & Secret Agents, Steampunk, War, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 02:09:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 33,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kairin16/pseuds/Kairin16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collections of drabbles written for Alternative Universe Bingo.</p><p>Summary of the first chapter: Charles is an activist and Erik is a very good lawyer, together they can take down all the bad boy's polluting the Earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Activists: Ecology 101

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting from my lj so I can have all my fics here.

They were here again.

Erik looked out of the window of his corner office and sure enough, there they were. They were a swarm of activists, protesting against Shaw’s new client – a big oil industry company. Erik’s not big on ecology himself, but he would gladly kick Shaw’s ass in court if someone would want him to. But these people on the sidewalk don’t do that, they don’t go to court with their cases, they just protest. It’s a shame really.

He looks around the group, looking for the particular figure and can feel a beginning of a frown forming on his face when he can’t find it. Ah, there he is. The ‘he’ Erik was looking for is a man, middle height, broad build, a head of brown locks, a lot of enthusiasm from what Erik can tell from his window. According to his Personal Assistant, Azazel, his name is Charles Xavier and he teaches ecology on the New York University, has a younger sister who usually comes to protest with him, a small fortune inherited from dead father, and a step-brother convicted for murder three years ago. He’s also bisexual. The last information cost Erik more than he cares to admit and Azazel probably lost some respect for Erik because of it. It was still worth it.

Erik sighs, clearly aware that even if he knows Charles wouldn’t mind dating a man, a lawyer from the same office as the employee of the world’s enemy wouldn’t have much chance. It’s such a pity. Erik wasn’t on a date for a long time now. Not for the lack of chances, but because he wasn’t interested in anyone he met or his friends introduced him to. And when he’s talking about friends he means Azazel, Emma and Janos, who all work in his firm. It’s a little sad, but it’s not like he has much time for relationships.

He would make time for Charles.

He’d be first to admit that it’s a bit sad and pathetic since the man doesn’t even know Erik exists. And if anyone would find out what did the lawyer used his power of law to do, he’d probably get suspended. But all the information he got from various sources would be priceless if Charles ever decided to go out with him. Right after Erik grows some balls and actually goes down and asks the man out. Maybe, he will, someday in the future.

He knows the man’s favorite movie is “Casablanca” and he’s allergic to clams and strawberries. He also doesn’t like pasta very much so Italian for a date wouldn’t be a good idea. He has a cat, but for some reason is allergic to dog’s fur too. His sister is studying Women Studies on the same University he works at and always makes him a cup of English Breakfast before he gets out of their apartment in the morning, 8am on the dot always. He loves jazz and blues, but hates modern pop, even if he always listen to it on his way to work in his car, blue Honda CR-Z.

Erik will be the first to admit that he might have entered into a creeper category some time ago. Azazel will gladly be the second.

He puts his forehead on the glass and sighs again. All that work will go for nothing. Just because he’s too unsure of himself to ever go down and speak to the guy.

Wait. Is that Emma striding from her car straight to the circle of activists? Does that mean Shaw got fed-up and will be suing them if they won’t clear out? Oh, hell no. Erik will be first to defend them, even if he usually prefers to prosecute some assholes. But no, Emma goes straight to Charles.

Now that could be even more dangerous. She talks to him gesticulating and this is the first time Erik has seen her so animated since her divorce with Shaw. And then she points her stupid finger at his window and both she and Charles turn into his direction.

He has the time to think “Shit!” before his survival instincts kick in and he ducks, crouching under his window pane. Why does Emma always need to put her nose into things that don’t concern her? Azazel comes in and is on the verge of saying something when he notices the position Erik is in. He gives him unimpressed look and slowly backs out of the room.

“I’ll just bring you these documents later, da?”

Erik shushes him and waves him off and the man leaves, leaving him alone again. Fuck, what is he supposed to do? Charles knows now that Erik was observing him and he probably thinks Erik is some kind of a creep. Well, he is, but it doesn’t mean he wanted the petite professor to know that.

~*~

Charles is on a protest against Essex’s Oil, the company responsible for the oil spill in the bay, when a strict looking woman in white strides to him. To say that he’s surprised would be an understatement of the year. And then Scott is hissing at him that she’s a lawyer and Charles readies himself to defend their little group from the lashing that surely will follow. It’s not the first time someone tries to move them from their spot with threats of prison and fines.

But Charles is nothing if unwilling to suffer for his cause. The ecosystem of the Earth is already very delicate, with species going extinct every other day and the ozone layer thinning with every aerosol used. He knows the consequences of every action humans can make against their planet and most of them will destroy their world. Nathaniel Essex having a lawyer in such an influential law company as Eisenhardt and Family can have disastrous effects. He’s not going to stop protesting until the company will realize what a monster Essex is and stop working with him.

But the woman doesn’t even try to touch the subject of their demonstration. Charles is confused until she starts talking about some lawyer who was watching them from his window for days now. No, that would be wrong. She tells him about the lawyer who was watching him, Charles, only. She points to the window in the corner office on the third floor of the building and Charles turns. Sure enough he can see a silhouette of the tall man, leaning over the glass. But then he blinks and the man is gone. Emma, because that’s the name of the woman, huff in annoyance.

“I can’t believe he ducked.”

Charles bites on his lip to keep in entirely inappropriate laugh bubbling in his chest. It seems he has a fan in this big, scary company. He could actually use it. He asks Emma for a name of the man and she gives it up readily. She explains that she knows he’ll probably use it to get Essex to court, but that she doesn’t care. He’s not sure what he thinks about it.

The receptionist calls the man’s PA and five minutes later Charles is on his way up. He’s greeted by a man in a reddish suit named Azazel just before the elevator’s door. Then he’s escorted to the office and they enter. There’s no one behind the desk, but after the quick scan of the room Charles notices a figure crouching under the window pane, picking up from behind it through the window. The low snicker from Azazel tells him that the man finds it incredibly funny and he has hard time himself to contain his chuckles.

Then Erik, a lawyer who likes to observe him and who is actually an heir to the whole Office, stands up and turns around, wearing a frown and clearly ready to tell something scathing to his assistant. And then he sees Charles and he gapes. Charles is a little flattered.

The man is tall, taller than Charles thought after seeing him in the window, lean but with broad shoulders and clearly built well, he has short, reddish hair and eyes that the color of Charles can’t really decide on. He’s utterly gorgeous actually. Charles is going to enjoy working with him.

The case against Essex they prepare in the next few months is something great and terrifying. Charles wasn’t sure that there could be so dirt found on this awful man. Erik is a little awkward for the first two weeks or so, but after he apparently decides that Charles is only interested in professional relationship with him and isn’t going to even mention the staring out of the window, he relaxes slightly. He says slightly, because he’s not sure the man is ever able to relax completely.

And the thing is, Charles really wanted only the professional help from the lawyer. He couldn’t have known that he would get to know Erik so well during the duration of the case. Neither could he know that he would fall in love with a grouchy man. If only Erik would ask him out finally. The final court meeting is going to be soon and Charles really doesn’t want them to not ever see each other again.

 

But then the final case comes and goes and they win in a spectacular fashion. His students throw the celebratory party and before he can even thank Erik, he’s swept away by the bunch of overenthusiastic ecologists. He turns around when he’s near the door and he can see Erik looking in his direction with a peculiar expression on his face. He almost looks sad, if Erik could ever let himself feel, and what’s more important, show such emotion.

The finals are looming closer and Charles suddenly finds himself buried under the amount of work that he doesn’t care for. He loves the subject he’s teaching, passionate about the Earth’s wellbeing as he is, but the technical side of his job is really killing him. It also gives him no time to even call Erik. Maybe it’s some kind of a sign from Universe that he shouldn’t even try.

 

He guesses he could believe that and leave his and Erik’s relationship as it is, as a client and a lawyer working together for one case. But then he goes to Erik’s office on his first free day and after five minutes talk with Azazel goes through the door and sees how bad Erik looks. He asks the man to a date and the smile he gets in return is more radiant then the sun itself.


	2. Alternate Fandom - Video Game: Crowns and Plumbers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles is Mario, Erik is Peach.

Erik stands before the full body mirror in one of the back rooms when Charles finds him. He’s too busy trying to straighten up the crown that stubbornly stays crooked. Charles personally finds it awfully charming, but the last time he said so, Erik went to sleep on the couch and didn’t speak to either him or Raven until he needed rescue from Shaw again. One would think that the old reptile would finally get a clue that the young Prince is not interested.  
He moves swiftly and unnoticed slinks behind his beloved, holding the man from behind, marveling at the weight loss. Erik is always thinner after a spell of kidnapping and Charles spends weeks bringing him back to healthy weight with home cooked spaghetti and pizza. He also notes it under one more reason why Shaw should be hated with passion by everyone and their mothers.

Erik startles, but then relaxes into embrace when he recognizes Charles standing behind him. He straightens up his pink dress and turns around to return it, only to reel back in shock upon seeing his lover’s face.

“Dear God, Charles, what happened to your face?” He asks reaching out tentative hand and caressing the smooth skin. Then he takes off his glove and does it again, just to make sure that he’s not hallucinating. It happened before.

“You said yourself that it would be better like that.” He pouts, trying not to miss his old look. It was a very long and very loud argument that they had every other month or so, so he hoped Erik’s reaction would be a little more enthusiastic.

“It is.” Erik says starting to grin finally. “You finally don’t look like an old porn star.” And then the man is kissing him and it is a little nicer like this, without anything obscuring his face so he can feel every breath of Erik’s on his skin.

He leans back for a moment and looks at his beautiful Prince in his get-up and decides that maybe they can skip a race just this time, there’s so much more drivers available. Raven will be overjoyed with a chance to drive Charles’ red car anyway.

He doesn’t have time to think about anything anymore, because Erik bends down to kiss him again, damn the height difference, Charles is always left feeling awfully tiny. But then Erik heists him up a little and he’s sitting on the make-up counter, being a little higher than his lover now. He cups the lovely face of his Prince and brushes his thumbs over sharp cheekbones, his gloves coming away absolutely clean. He doesn’t even know why they keep leaving all this painting stuff for Erik when it’s obvious the man doesn’t use it ever.

He leans back for a moment, pulling his gloves and hat off, which Erik takes as a cue to put his bare fingers in his hair, and Charles can’t complain about it because it feels really good. Before the buttons on his overalls undo themselves just by Erik’s will alone he has a time to knock the offending crown from his lover’s blond locks. It’s not like Erik needs it for everyone to know who he is.

He’s royal like that.


	3. Talk/News Show: Five in the morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five in the morning is the awful time to be awake.

Erik hates mornings. He always has and he probably always will. He hates the winter ones the most; the ones when he wakes up to world covered in the inky blackness and has a moment of panic that he woke up to early. It’s like the world itself doesn’t want to wake up. It’s dark, it’s cold, and possibly nothing, sans Erik and nightly workers, is awake. Well, and Charles. Seeing as the man needs to be right there with Erik when he plasters the fake smile on his face and greets New York with a cherry ‘Good morning’. Not that it matters how they say it. Looking at the statistics, in the whole state of NY only twenty-something people watch them. Probably only because they have nothing else to do.

See, the thing is, Erik got his journalism degree and theatre courses to be an anchorman on evening news. Nothing more and nothing less, that was exactly what he wanted to do. But somehow for nine years he’s stuck on a program that no one ever sees. He’s been told it’s because he can’t smile, but there are lots of people on evenings that never does and they do well. He could be the one to always tell people about tragedies, he’s good at making serious faces.

Only by now he’s probably too old to be of any interest to the branch to relegate him anywhere. He’s not naïve enough to think that the looks don’t matter in their profession, they do. And his are silently tiptoeing from his life with every year that passes. He looks in the mirror every morning and he sees missed opportunities. He’s turning forty this year and it shows in every line on his face. At least he’s not balding or greying yet.

The missed opportunities aren’t only from his professional life, but he doesn’t think about it or he’d never be able to get out of bed. The truth is, he doesn’t have anything in his life to look forward to anymore. His existence is absolutely empty.

Well, maybe not completely, he muses, answering Charles’ sunny smile when he walks in the studio. Charles is his cohost and has been so for five years now. Before him, it was a kaleidoscope of faces and names that Erik hardly bothered to learn. It’s not like they stayed for long anyway. But Charles clung stubbornly to his position, for reasons unknown to Erik. He knows he’s not a pleasure to be around at any time really, but in the mornings he can be super nasty, so it can’t be because of him. The man is young enough, handsome enough, talented and emphatic enough to get position on the evening news if he only tried.

Erik might have a tiny little crush on the man, which he tries to burrow as deep in his head as he can. He doesn’t necessarily want Charles to leave their program, but he knows it would be better for the younger man to do so. Everyone is here only to get higher on a professional ladder. Well, everyone but Erik, who is a fixed mixture.

He sits down on his place with a sigh and thankfully accepts the mug of coffee Angel gives him. Charles is chattering with sound operator, Sean in the corner, gesticulating lively and smiling widely. Erik doesn’t know how the man can be so cheerful at this hour, but he’s not going to complain. On his worse days this smile is the only thing that makes him try to reign in his temper. It doesn’t always work, but at least he’s trying.

He sighs again and rolls the mug in his hands, making coffee splash across the porcelain walls. He smiles wryly and mutters “Happy birthday, old man.” His forty, he should probably think about changing professions. He’s too old to get anywhere else, even if director Shaw wanted to give him any chances, and he doesn’t want to spend the entirety of his life stuck in the morning news show that no one even watches.

He turns automatically and answers the cheery ‘Good Morning!’ with one of his own, looking in the face of his cohost. He should also probably stop pining for this man and move forward with his life. He’d probably stop missing the smile someday.

It’s time to move on.


	4. Space stations/ships: Twinkle Twinkle Little Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles looks outside his window and misses Earth like he never thought he would.

The view outside the window is breathtaking. It’s inky darkness filled with millions and milliards spots of dancing lights, colorful clouds of gas here and there peeking from red, and green, and yellow globes of planets and moons. It’s absolutely beautiful and it still makes his chest ache, the longing for their mother planet, for the aquamarine Earth still strong in him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be rid of it. To be honest, he doesn’t want to be. It’s the proof that he still remembers and someone has to.

Charles sighs again and leans more strongly on the reinforced glass of the ship. There are light years away from his home now and as far as he knows it might be already not as blue as he recalls it. The explosions on the planet’s surface, releasing poisonous gas to the atmosphere were the thing that pushed them away from their home, the only way out a journey into space. It wouldn’t be enough to kill humans, he muses, if it just wouldn’t have the side effect of eating the ozone layer with the speed in which termites eat wood.

He doesn’t even know if anyone else from his Academia survived. He doesn’t even know his own sister’s fate. In theory, their saviors were ready to take everyone on their ships. In reality he knows it couldn’t be that good. At least people on his ship were nice and helpful. They were also cool and distant and other humans were too terrified to be of any comfort to each other. So Charles sat, curled in his spot near the window and prayed to the God he didn’t believe that Raven was alright.

He doesn’t react when someone sits next to him, but startles when the hand holding a cup of- something is thrust in front of his face. He turns just to come face to face with ship’s captain. He said at the start of their journey that his name is Erik, but Charles secretly suspects that it’s something longer and unpronounceable for humans. He gives the man a small smile and looks down into the cup given to him. The liquid inside is dark and odorless, and it would remind him of coffee if not for a pink bubbles resurfacing time and again. He doesn’t think he’s hungry enough to try it.

“You need to eat.” Erik says from around his shoulders and although his face is blank as usual, Charles thinks he can detect a small frown between the two immaculate eyebrows. Or it’s his wishful thinking. “According to Magneto you haven’t eaten since we boarded.”

Charles blinks and looks at the man blankly for a minute before he remembers that Magneto is the ship’s name. So it appears the ship isn’t as dead as Earth’s would be. That’s not reassuring at all.

“I’m not hungry.” He says, just because the captain expects him to answer and assumes it would be enough for the man to leave and go back to his responsibilities. Although it the ship is alive, he doesn’t know what does it need a captain for. To his surprise the man makes disgruntled noise and crowds closer to him, and soon Charles finds himself pinned to the window by the bigger man’s body.

“Nutrition is necessary for survival. No food means no nutrition means death from starvation and dehydration. Not on my watch.” Erik says and Charles doesn’t even have time to protest before the cup of liquid is pressed to his lips and he’s forced to swallow its contest. It’s unexpectedly tasty and he licks his lips after the captain moves away to give him some space.

He should have known to not doubt the race that just swept from the sky to save them. Or maybe he should, if it’s put like that.

“Thank you.” He says. “I promise to eat regularly from now on.”

Erik nods and moves away and Charles doesn’t wish he’d stay longer at all. He can get used to loneliness, it’s not a problem at all.

~*~

Their saviors shockingly don’t look much different from humans. They are all tall and thin, but it may be just Charles’ impression, because he was always rather small in comparison to everyone. Raven used to tease him about it and he’d never though he might be missing it. He spends a lot of time just observing the race that is intelligent enough not only to predict an extinction of species, but also compassionate enough to want to prevent it.

They all have slightly pointy ears and he heard few humans whispering amusedly about Spock and Vulcans. The comparison isn’t exactly misused as the staff of the ship is as unfeeling as they are smart and helpful. But it can’t be true, Charles wonders. They not only saved them, but seem to genuinely care about the wellbeing of every one of saved humans. They still might have some ulterior motive, but Charles always liked to believe in the best of everyone so he tries not to think about it.

Instead he focuses on his research. He’s a scientist, study of an inquiry is like a second nature to him. He finds out that they eat and drink as humans do, but they don’t seem to need to use any facilities to get rid of bodily waste. It takes him to realization that he doesn’t remember when he needed to use toilet last time and brings forward longing for a laboratory where he could see what’s inside the mystery liquid.

It’s also very clear that they form a close, emphatic society, but they don’t know much about affection. He’s seen the ship’s navigator, name by the name of Janos (possibly), stand in the middle of the corridor with his head curiously cocked, just observing mother holding her daughter and whispering stories into her small ear. Charles thinks they’re awfully sad creatures, but he keeps his opinion to himself.

They’re obviously awfully intelligent and much stronger than any human. Charles deducted it after one the ship’s guards broke up the fight between two human men without small effort, and then raised them into air by their arms as if they weighted nothing. There were no fights since then. He himself, would love to find out if it’s only strength or does it include speed and stamina, but he can hardly ask someone to run through the corridor, because he’s curious. It’s a shame, but he’ll survive.

There is also the fact that all of them have crazy sharp cheekbones. Charles doesn’t know if it’s familial trait or if it’s something of the race’s bone structure, but he would love to find out. Alas, it would be rude to just ask so he has to keep the questions to himself.

It’s all very frustrating.

~*~

So Charles might be aware that this whole research idea is only something he uses to take his mind out of the worry about Raven and his friends. He tends to not think about it, but he’s forced to when there is nothing left to find out in the lifestyle they’re living in without asking questions. And he really doesn’t want to offend anyone and end up thrown out of the ship. He started to like Magneto, the whirring of the ship’s insides lulling him to sleep in his spot near the window every night (or day, it’s hard to tell time in space and Charles clearly realizes that it hardly matters and just goes to sleep whenever he’s tired). It almost sounds like a lullaby, intended to comfort and he can think for at least a little while that he’s not as alone as he really is.

But then his research runs out and he finds himself with more and more free time on his hands. He was never good with people so he’s a little wary of just approaching a group of them and spending time in their company. So he stays in his spot and looks out into space. It’s all that’s left for him to do.

He notices that he doesn’t eat as regularly as he promised the captain he would, but he figures that just as long as he’s alive it won’t be a problem. He fancies the sounds of the ship grow worried with every day that passes, but he knows logically that it’s highly improbable. Who is he in the face of the entire race? He’s just a speck of the dust. He wouldn’t be surprised if no one would ever notice if he really died, propped against his window like that.

Anyway, he thinks like that before the captain plops before him again this time looking irritated. Well, as irritated as these creatures tend to look, which is to say not very. Charles observed them for a time though so he can tell. It puzzles him a little before Erik shoves a cup of the liquid in his direction. Ah, so someone did notice.

Charles sighs and obediently drinks the contents of the plastic glass. He gives it back and turns back to his window, sure that the captain will leave now that Charles did his bidding. He’s surprised to find the man’s hand on his shoulder instead. And then he’s pulled into a hug and he would be frozen shocked, if it wasn’t a hug and he wasn’t absolutely starved for any kind of touch and affection.

“It is supposed to be Earth’s gesture of comfort. Is it working?” Erik says from somewhere above Charles’ ear and he gives out what was going to be a chuckle but came out as a more of a sob instead.

“Yes. Yes, it’s working. Thank you.” He says and burrows closer, tightening his arms around the captain, in case the man would get an idea that it means he should let go.

 

Erik gives him hugs roughly one or two times a day and he soon finds himself spending more time on the captain’s bridge than on his lonely spot by the window. He knows it’s not much, but maybe for now he can pretend that it’s enough.


	5. Ancient civilizations: Right behind that boulder in the middle of the forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik is bound to the stream by the powers of Zeus.

Erik isn’t someone people pray to. He’s not someone heroes fall in love with either. He’s a nymph. He’s a male nymph to boot. It’s a rare thing, but it happens, mostly because Zeus gets his kicks off changing some harmless Germanic boys into fucking tree spirits. Or water spirits like in Erik’s case. The point is, Zeus is a fucking asshole with sadistic sense of humor and Erik is stuck as a water nymph until someone will fall in love with him or some other nonsense. It’s not like anyone crosses near his stream, far away from the path as it is.

Well, of course that is, until the day that they do.

Erik is sitting on a rock in the middle of his stream, splashing his feet in the water mindlessly when he first hears it. It sounds like a hunt, only there is very little game to be hunted in the woods around him. So he jumps in the water and swims to the boulder he can hide behind and peers from behind it. There seems to be a group of men on horses, pursuing someone. They seem to be getting closer to their victim when the man, because Erik can see now that he is decidedly male, trips and falls into his stream. Erik immediately can feel the complete terror the man is feeling, and underneath a wave of grief and sadness and it makes him want to close his eyes and weep.

He’s not really sure why he does what he does next, but it’s a pure instinct. When one of the pursuers gets off his horse and reaches for the man in the water, Erik raises his hand and makes the water dance in dangerous whirls and waves, cutting the hunting party from their game. The only calm place is the one when the, shocked and puzzled now, man is still standing. The men ride away, calling about wrath of gods. As if, Erik muses. It would be much easier if he was actually a god of some kind, he’d probably be able to free himself.

He could of course use the situation to actually break his enchantment, make the man fall in love with him. The only problem being that no one mortal could actually see him. The only thing they saw was his stream, and if they were lucky, sometimes the blurry reflection of his figure in the clear water.

The man seems to be sitting dejectedly in his water, as if he’s not going to move anywhere, and Erik uses this time to peer at him closer. The tunic he wears is torn and splattered in some placed with blood from scratches along his arms and legs, but the material seems expensive and there are ornate weavings near the sleeves and hem of it. The other thing that makes Erik think the man is from a rich family is the shade of his skin, pale as if it didn’t see sun much. Erik will have to make sure to ask the nearby tree nymphs to shade the man from Apollo’s rays if he doesn’t want it to change. And he doesn’t, it looks beautiful contrasted with dark locks on the man’s head and his crimson lips. But his eyes- His eyes are the color of Erik’s sacred waters and he can feel himself falling looking into them. Never before has he felt such an instant connection to anyone.

He walks closer, sure that he won’t be spotted and falls to his knees in front of the man. He really is beautiful. Erik’s heart clenches at the thought that he won’t ever be able to try his chances with this man. Not while he’s a sprite like now. He sighs and washes the man’s injuries with gentle hands, ignoring the puzzled stare and the man’s attempts to spot his helper, because he won’t. The impromptu bath seems to exhaust the man and he slumps forward, his eyes falling closer. He falls asleep, sitting in the stream like that. Fool.

Erik gathers him in his arms and carries him off to the biggest boulder, the one creating a little shaded clearing between water and the rest of the forest. He puts the man gently on the grass and calls for Angel, the sprite of the closest willow, to help him mend the man’s clothes. She listens to the story and by the end she’s looking at him with something akin to pity in her eyes, and Erik sets his jaw and looks away stubbornly. He doesn’t need pity or anything else. It’s not like anything is going to change his situation anyway.

The man wakes up when they’re almost gone and Erik can swear that for a moment he looks as if he sees them. He puts his hand on the man’s brow and whispers to him to sleep, that he’s safe, they’re going to take care of him. And the man does.


	6. Auto racing: Silver Engine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is something strange about Charles' cars.

Charles got into racing when he was sixteen years old and followed Cain out of the house just to escape Kurt’s wrath. He’s not exactly sure why the older boy allowed him to join on the trip, but he has suspicions that his step-brother was never as unfeeling as he liked to pretend to be. And they both knew that it was either this or going back home and getting fist in the face for Charles. He’s going to be grateful to Cain for taking him with this day for the rest of his life.

It’s true that he’s not a professional driver, he never mustered enough motivation to go to any courses. To be honest, he doesn’t really know what it takes to be a professional. He just joins the races sometimes when he feels like it, and they allow him, because he’s one of the sponsors. What do they care if he’ll crash somewhere along the way?

But he doesn’t crash. He never does. He doesn’t win either, but it’s more because he doesn’t want to than because he couldn’t. It just seems unfair somehow to take the prize away from someone who works hard to get it. He has a weird feeling that his cars don’t approve of his generosity.

It’s the thing with these beautiful machines, that sometimes they appear almost sentient to Charles. Not all cars are like that and he buys only ones who are. It makes him feel less lonely, now that he’s completely alone in the mansion and with his fortune. He fancied opening a school in the house for some time, but discarded the notion. He wouldn’t be a good teacher anyway.

The first car he bought for himself was liquid orange BMW M1. It was the first of its kind ever produced and he could swear he heard it singing to him. The interior was dark blue and the dashboard light up with warm yellow light. He called her Raven. She was fast, flashy, and absolutely beautiful. She was his first companion and he loved her to bits.

The next one was Emma. He admitted to himself somewhere in his 27th year of life that he probably needs something less attention grabbing for getting around the city. That doesn’t mean it would be completely non-descript. Emma was as gorgeous as Raven, but in a different way. She was subtle, full of curves when the other girl had sharp angles. Light silver Porsche Carrera GT was something that caught the eye, but excluded a cool atmosphere that seemingly said ‘I’m better than you and I know it. Don’t even try to touch me.’ Charles was utterly charmed from the moment he laid his eyes on her.

Then came Azazel. To be honest, Charles was going to call him another women’s name, like Keira or Liv, but the car oozed testosterone. When he told it to his PA, Moira, she looked at him funny, but she wasn’t actually able to negate it. Azazel is black Lamborghini Murcielago LP640 and is the fastest car Charles owns to this day. It’s him that Charles most often takes out on races and has to stop before actual finish line so they won’t take any trophies. For some reason the car refuses to start for days after that. Moira tells him he should see a mechanic about that. He knows it’s just a harmless snit and that his boy will get out of this eventually.

Sometimes he finds Azazel mysteriously parked next to Raven, even though Charles left him on the other side of garage. In these instances he always finds the red fluff from Az’s interior on Raven’s blue leather, but he doesn’t want to think too closely about it. It kind of terrifies him frankly.

One summer when Charles turns thirty he and Moira are on the stands for the motorbike’s race. Charles never really thought about joining this category. There’s too much of the driver exposed and left to fate for his liking, but for a moment there’s some magic in the air that makes him want to join so much he can hardly wait to buy his own bike. That’s how Nascafe Shaw Speed & Custom finds itself in his garage just few days later. He calls the bike Sebastian, but somehow always ends up calling him Shaw anyway. He doesn’t actually drive it at all. There’s something wrong about the air around it.

He wins his first race three days after his 33rd birthday. The car he’s driving was a gift from Moira, who actually paid for it with his own money, but spend months choosing it so it still counts. Just like every other time, he puts his foot on the brakes when he sees the finish line and expects the machine to slow down enough to give the other drivers the time to leave Charles behind.

The only problem is the brakes don’t want to work. He’s not ashamed to admit that he panics. Being in the car moving at this speed he would need a miracle to get out of the eventual crash alive. He closes his eyes and readies himself for inevitable. It’s just that when he passes the astonished face of the judge, winning the race, the car stops on its own. He has a moment to think ‘What the fuck.’ before his door opens and the faces of judges and press people alike swarm into his vision. He plasters a smile on his face and gets out, carefully not thinking about what just happened.

He has the car towed to his garage, opting to drive in the passenger seat of Moira’s old, trusty corvette. The thing is he suspected something is unusual about this car from the start of the race. His McLaren SLR 722 was by no means the fastest one on track today. It didn’t stop it from actually moving the fastest. Charles had to hardly touch the steering wheel before they turned. It was like the car was moving by itself.

In the evening, after he had enough whisky to brave it, he goes down to the garage and walks a little unsteadily to his newest car. He moves his hand over the silver paintjob, admiring the array of curves and angles alike. There’s no question about the fact that the machine is beautiful, maybe the most beautiful one in his possession yet. It’s also even more terrifying than Shaw is.

He gets in and relaxes into leather of the seat, closing his eyes. There’s no possibility he imagine what happened today, right? It’s just impossible. He doesn’t notice when he falls asleep, but he can swear he can feel the seat mold to his frame, making him more comfortable than he probably would be in his bed upstairs.

He dreams about a man. That man is tall and thin, with broad shoulders and tapered waist. His face is all angles, but with softness there that calls to something deep in Charles. When he turns, the smile he has for Charles is all teeth and sharpness, but somehow he knows it doesn’t mean any danger. The arms closing around him are warm and strong, and the voice whispering into his ear is rough but purring, like a well-oiled engine. The man’s eyes are steely grey.

When he wakes up it’s to pounding in his ears and absolute surety that something completely bizarre just happened. He sucks in a breath and moves his hand over beige dashboard, the color bringing to mind the silky strands of the man’s hair. The chuckle that escapes him has some hysterical edge to it, but he feels entirely entitled to it.

“Well then. Hello Erik.” He says, feeling the name sinking into the car around him. “I think we’re going to be good friends.”

He has no idea what just happened, but if that means he’s going to gain some more companionship than that of unfeeling machines, he’s going to take it.


	7. Aliens: In search of home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The planet has just right atmosphere to allow humans to survive on it.

The creature before him looked like nothing he’s ever seen in his life before. It had a vague humanoid shape and could move on two legs, but it was apparent that it disliked this form of transportation. It circled Charles now, who could do nothing but stand frozen to the spot, hoping that it would lose interest soon.

The expedition of which Charles is part of was sent to find and explore new planets, looking for new habitats for humans. Their space stations were overflowing, the rate of death to birth too high to cause anything but problems. This is the fourth world they found which had enough oxygen in the atmosphere to allow humans to survive. Ironic that Charles would be the last one of his group to be alive at the moment. The planet might have a friendly air, but its fauna and flora did not like intruders at all.

The creature which, Charles was sure, was going to eventually kill him, for example, was called in his notes ED, which stood for Extreme Danger. It had a skin hood over its, presumably, head and the only thing that Charles could see was a pair of neon green eyes looking at him. The eyes looked something reptilian but he, experienced evolutionist, had trouble to classify it as a reptile. It showed signs of every animal group he could think of and it was absolutely terrifying.

He sucked in a breath and froze when the beast finally stopped. It didn’t mean he was out of the danger however. This got proved a moment later when the long arm completed with a sharp talon swung out and took his legs from out of him. He had time to only scream at the sight of shark-like jaws leaning over him before he lost consciousness.

When he came to, he had a moment to wonder at waking up at all when the creature leaned over him again. It looked slightly different and he would marvel at it if he wasn’t so very terrified right now. He could feel his leg going numb and he looked down only to see the sharp talon piercing his calf, the beast dragging him somewhere behind it. It would explain why he felt in motion. A little more of it and he was going to lose his leg. Not that it mattered much if he was going to get eaten anyway.

He’s dragged into something what looks like a cave, but was much more…homely for the lack of better word. It looked like an apartment of sorts with sections dividing it into different rooms. Maybe these beasts weren’t as savage as they all thought. Maybe they were just protecting their home from the human invasion. Charles would be first to admit that his race had an awful tendency to ruin places it occupied. He suddenly felt guilty and that’s not an emotion he should feel while having maimed leg and being in the lair of dangerous predator.

He’s deposited on, what he assumes served as bed and left alone for a moment. He struggled to get his flight suit completely off, hoping to at least have a look at his throbbing calf. He almost vomited at the sight of it, tendons and muscles ripped, blood oozing violently from holes in it. He whimpered and put his head in his hands. Even if he somehow outsmarted the beast, there was no way he could get back to the ship with his leg in this state. If he didn’t faint from pain two steps from the cave, he would be eaten by another predator.

He was almost sure he could hear a baby’s wailing at one point, but it might just be hallucination from blood loss. But then the creature came back and it held two little bundles of scales and fur and Charles had a sudden epiphany that it was a female. As if sensing his thoughts the beast growled low in his throat and made quite a display after putting its children next to Charles on the bed. Quite frankly, the scientist had no idea cocks could get that big.

He wondered for a moment if he was brought to the lair so the young could feed on him when one of the bundles moved. Sheer curiosity made him lean over it and he hissed in pain, which brought the creature back to the bed. After what he just saw, Charles would be much comfortable with it as far away from anywhere near him as possible.

Just as the bundle blinked up at him and exposed the same eyes as its father had, the creature took his calf, this time gently, and licked over it. Charles was not ashamed to admit that he yelped. The tongue displayed was freakishly long and blue, like the rest of creature’s skin. What’s curious however was the fact that the saliva left on his skin started healing his wound. Well, that would explain why none of the bullets hurt the beast.

He took a deep breath and turned back to the young. The best clearly didn’t want him to die or it wouldn’t start healing his injury, and even in that moment Charles pretended not to feel its rough tongue moving over his skin. The young was blinking up at him, clearly as interested in him as he was in it. He put his hand over something that looked like a tiny tentacle and it winded itself over his finger. It took him a minute to realize he’s grinning. And then the tentacle shifted and changed and there was a tiny human hand holding his thumb.

Oh, oh, very curious indeed.


	8. Immortals: The sword of heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles is magnificent like this.

Erik stood back and observed. Charles was magnificent like this. His wings spread widely reaching two poles of the world at the same time. The pure white feathers, usually so immaculate, fluffed and splattered with crimson. His tunic was torn and his hair was wind-swept, from the spell’s backfire or from the flight it didn’t matter. Right now, Charles was every inch the warrior he was intended to be. The sword rose, poised to strike the Other curled at his feet, begging for mercy. There was no mercy for these creatures, only wrath and justice delivered swiftly and as painfully as possible.  
Others were creatures of darkness and chaos, made only to be destroyed, mindless and heartless. They seduced and tempted humans, made them Fall, just for their own sick enjoyment. Charles and others job was to find them, hunt them, kill them. Destroy them.

Erik sometimes wondered if that was all to Others, if they really were as empty of everything as everyone said. But he didn’t question. To question was to doubt, and to doubt was to go against His will. And that led only one way, into becoming the Other. No one wanted that.

It didn’t mean it wasn’t hard. They all had their orders and the set of rules everyone had to follow. The most important of them was to not question. The other was not to want. But it was a torture to see Charles beautiful like this, poised to kill, and not want. Erik wanted with all his being, but he kept silent. To say a word was to lose Charles forever, and not having him for eternity was a small price for being allowed into his shining presence.

Charles was- If Others was darkness, Charles was pure light, created only for love and fight. It sounded like it couldn’t go shoulder in shoulder, but it could and it could so well. Erik spent every day of his immortal life in awe of his commander. He didn’t notice when awe changed into love, and when love showed taints of lust. But then he did, and still he stayed silent.

He would give everything for one warm glance, an embrace, a simple touch. He saw humans share affection between them, kissing, holding each other, giving in to their most carnal desires. He didn’t want as much. If he could only press his lips to these of Charles’, lightly as a feather, he would be happy for all eternity.

But there was only one entity they were supposed to love. It was forbidden in every other form, so Erik stayed silent. He didn’t say a word of his feelings for a millennia and then for two, and for three, four, five. He lost count around ten, or he simply lost interested in keeping count. It didn’t matter for how long he stayed silent, it didn’t change single thing. Neither his feelings changed, neither the rules did. So he stayed back and looked, observed Charles in all his glory and longed.

It was inevitable that it couldn’t go on forever.

So when Charles’ sword swings down, finally going for a kill, Erik closes his eyes and accepts his fate. It’s the least he can do after tainting Charles’ person with his unclean desires.

It’s just one more Other destroyed by the Angel, nothing more, nothing less.


	9. Alternate Fandom - Theatre: Angel of music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a man in Erik's dream.

Erik has been dreaming.  
He has been dreaming for a long time now, about the Angel of Music his mother promised he would meet one day. But his dreams were never as vivid as they are when he rests in his little room in Paris Opera. He dreams about a man, a man in the mask hiding half of his face. This man sings to him, becoming him closer and closer, and has the pair of the most piercing blue eyes Erik has ever imagined. His own Angel of Music, speaking to him in notes and lyrics.

The days spent in chorus, overlooked and ignored, are not as hard with these dreams in the back of his mind, as they would be otherwise. The memory of the Angel’s soft voice is enough to get him through the awful rehearsals when Shaw acts as if he owns the place, instead of just singing here. Sometimes, Erik thinks that he would like to try to get the man’s place, be the Opera’s Diva for a day or two. But then he remembers that chorus boys don’t get chances like that and goes back to his place quietly. It’s only his Angel that he can voice his occasional desires to.

When he sees James at one of the performances, he can feel his heart skip a beat. He hasn’t seen his friend in so long it feels like a whole eternity. They were beloved childhood playmates and he hopes that maybe now they could be at least friends again. But he knows that he’s a poor chorus boy and James is a Viscount, there is little possibility of that happening.

When he mentions James to his Angel he wakes up almost immediately as if by magic. He doesn’t see his musical companion for days afterwards and he feels more miserable than he cares to admit. When they are reunited once again, Erik kneels at the Angel’s feet and swears to never talk about anyone else ever, just as long as he won’t be left alone again.

And he gets this promise. The promise to never be left alone again, as long as he’ll stay faithful to his Angel. That’s why he denies James’ affection and keeps to himself. He knows Moira and Emma are getting more worried about him with every passing day, but it hardly matters.

So when his mirror opens in the dead of the night to reveal a passage he doesn’t hesitate to step through it. The music leads him to the rich room, filled with knick-knacks, a bed, and an enormous organ. But it’s also empty and Erik’s heart sinks. He was supposed to meet his Angel here.

He doesn’t go back to his room, there is nothing waiting for him at the other side of the passage anymore. He lays on the empty bed and curled into himself, falls asleep, alone and cold. When he wakes, it’s to the sound of the most beautiful music he’s ever heard.

The Angel sits at the instrument and his fingers fly over the keyboard, producing sweet sounds, feeding Erik’s soul from inside.

“Am I dreaming again?” He whispers shakily, afraid of waking up, if it’s one more nightly wish.

The man comes to him and only now does Erik notice that despite losing the jacket and the hat, he still has the mask on. The Angel pulls it off and Erik gasps at the array of scars and burns covering the skin, deforming it to the horrible degree.

“Tell me, my precious” says the man “is this a dream or a nightmare?”

Erik can feel his heart trembling in fear, but he reaches his arms bravely and embraces his Angel warmly. What is appearance compared to the loneliness from which he was saved by this man?

“The sweetest of dreams, as long as you’re with me.” He whispers quietly, putting his head on the man’s chest and gives relieved breath when his embrace is returned.

“You can call me Charles, my precious little bird.” It feels like all his wishes came true at once and he fears of waking up like all the times before. There is only one difference to this moment that feels his heart with endless joy.

Erik knows he isn’t dreaming anymore.


	10. Spies/Secret Agents: I'll make this man turn in his badge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So you're a spy."

Charles knew it couldn’t be true. It was all too perfect.

“So you’re a spy.”

“No!” Erik says quickly, looking panicked for about half a second before his usual bored face clicks into place. Charles should have known that no one normal can make their face so expressionless all the time. “I’m a secret agent.”

“Which makes a difference how? You’re still here to find something to close my school.”

At least he has enough soul left in his uncaring body to wince at that. Not that it’s a false accusation. Charles usually refrain from reading people around him, especially ones that he considers friends, and what a joke that is, but he made an exception when he saw Erik looking through very important papers in his desk.

“What did you tried to accomplish?” He asks and tries to pretend his voice doesn’t break. He can’t afford to be weak in front of this man, not anymore. “Most of these children don’t have anywhere else to go but here. Where do you think they would go if the school got closed?”

“That wasn’t of a concern to me.” Erik says and this time he very visible cringes. Good. At least he knows how that sounded. “Charles, wait. Listen to me.” Erik takes the few steps to him and puts his hands on Charles’ shoulders, keeping him in place. “It wasn’t. But now it is. You must know that I care about these kids.”

How can Charles know? He doesn’t know anything anymore. He only knows that Erik was sent by the government to search the school for any proof of illegal activities so they could shut it down. And then he became Charles’ friend and maybe Charles was hoping for something more, but it doesn’t matter, because Erik is some kind of spy or secret agent or whatever and he did all this because it was his work.

“Charles!” Erik shakes him and look, he doesn’t look so calm anymore. “You must know. I care about them and I care about you. I wasn’t going to give them anything that would make them close the school.”

“But you were going to leave.” Charles has a second to wonder whose voice is so hoarse before he realizes that it’s his. Erik doesn’t want to meet his eyes anymore, which is confirmation enough. Charles tries to shake him off and stomp away angrily to- do something, probably drown himself in scotch, but the bugger won’t budge. “Just let me go, Erik. I think everything that had to be said was said already.”

But Erik doesn’t let him go. Instead, he grips his shoulders tighter and crashes their lips together. Normally, Charles would jump at a chance to kiss this man, he waited for it for God’s sake, but not today. He tries to push Erik away, embarrassed about the sob that escapes him, but the harder he tries to escape, the harder is Erik keeping him in place.

He gives up finally, balling his hands in the damn turtleneck, and who the hell wears turtlenecks in summer, and giving as good as he’s getting. They break apart after few minutes, both panting for breath.

“What was that?” Charles says and wonders how can he want the answer at the same time he’s dreading it. Erik breaks into one of his little smile that never fails to make Charles’ heart stutter and says “That was a kiss.” Charles huffs and is close to some snippy reply when Erik pulls him into another kiss and the conversation is delayed again.

“You can’t keep doing that to avoid talking to me.” He can honestly admit that it’s only half truth. He wouldn’t really mind if Erik did.

“I love you.” Charles sucks in a breath and looks up at Erik with what he’s sure is utterly gobsmacked expression. “I love you and I’m not letting anyone hurt you or your school.”

“But your job-“

“Screw my job. I didn’t like it anyway.” Erik scowls and then softens. “I’d much rather be literature teacher if you’ll let me.”

This is going to end badly. If the government sent Erik, they will send others to do his job. Charles thinks that maybe together they can protect school from anyone.

He smiles and pulls Erik into another kiss. They have a make-up sex to get to.


	11. Steampunk: Watchmaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watchmaking is kind of family business.

Erik is a watchmaker. Nothing less nothing more. His father was a watchmaker, and his father’s father, and his father before that. It’s kind of a family business. The life maybe isn’t the most exciting, but it is calm and what’s most important, it is safe. Days are spent in the workshop, while Ruth, his sister works the till and they sell all kind of watches. Lately fashion dictated the one working on steam. Erik didn’t really understand why, since in more cases than not, having a watch like that ended in the owner being burnt and needing medical assistance.

People were illogical like that sometimes. That’s why he preferred to stick to his tumblers and little pipes. No machine was ever as complicated as any random human.

When the rumor, about the Hellfire Gang coming to town, spread around, he wasn’t particularly worried. The gang was notorious for robbing banks and kidnapping a pretty lady or two, even though it was less often now that Frost joined them, and leaving as if they were never there. They were unstoppable force, but one that wasn’t particularly dangerous for random citizen who kept his money in the house anyway. So Erik didn’t worry. He didn’t have a reason to.

Or so he thought.

So now he stands between the gang leader, Shaw, and Sheriff Xavier with his hands raised and curses his bad luck. Of course the fate would have him strolling across the street just as the deputy was about to arrest the criminal. Of fucking course. He sees Sheriff’s gun faltering and he can just tell that the fool is going to let the bastards go, just because he wants Erik unharmed. Charles was a nice man, but he was shit when his friends were put in danger, which Shaw apparently knew.

Erik sighs and decides to take it into his own hands to not end up shot. He bends his knees and when Shaw yells surprised he straightens up, causing the man to bite on his own tongue. The bandit lets him go with a muffled curse and it’s evident from the blood seeping from his mouth that the bite wasn’t a light one. Not like Erik cares though. So he procures his security device from his pocket and opens it in Shaw’s face. There’s a flash of blinding light and a cloud of heated steam hits the bandit in the face causing him to stumble and howl in pain.

From here it’s a simple thing to disarm him and with few well-aimed hits reduce him to the whining heap on the ground. Let it not be said that Erik doesn’t know how to take care of himself. It’s just that he prefers not to get in trouble at all since it’s rather bad for business. He closes his pocket-mirror-like device and puts it back into his pocket. The damn thing will need at least a day to recharge now. He should work on shortening its time.

Shaw is cuffed and led away to the police station, already sentenced to being hanged in the morning. Before Erik can even sigh there’s Charles hugging him a little too tightly, mumbling into his neck some worried nonsense. As if he just didn’t witness Erik kicking some serious ass. He huffs and hugs the man back, because he doesn’t see a reason not to and he tries to touch his secret crush as often as possible when he gets a chance.

He assures the man that he’s completely alright and promises to come to the saloon later in the evening for a glass of whisky and a game of chess. He goes home to pissed off looking Ruth who doesn’t like to be left alone in the shop and wonders that maybe he would have risked his silent life if that meant a little more of that warm touch that Charles would bestow upon him.


	12. Government: To serve and to protect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik has been part of Secret Service for over a decade.

Erik has been part of Presidential Protection Detail for 15 years now. They were long, hard years, filled with more trouble than public would ever know. He has scars and bullet wounds to prove it. But they were satisfying years also, the knowledge that on some small scale he’s helping to protect the life of the most important man in the whole country. He likes it. He likes knowing that he’s useful.

There is of course an extra edge to that knowledge now that Charles Xavier has been American president for two years. The man doesn’t know what’s good for him or what’s proper and Erik finds himself together with the rest of the security often just sitting and drinking tea with the man. As if they were his friends. They shouldn’t be agreeing to that, few years more and there will be someone else taking Charles’ place, maybe even less if they won’t be able to do their job properly. There is nothing to be gained from getting attached. Well, nothing but pain and a sense of loss when the man is gone. Erik would know, he lost a lot of people in his life.

But it’s hard to say no when the man is so earnest, like he really wants them to spend time with him. Erik muses, that maybe the position of the most powerful man in the country is lonelier than people realize, especially when one doesn’t have family to support him. Charles had a sister at the start of his campaign, but she went missing when he won. They searched for her all across the world, with no success. Sometimes he catches the man standing at the window and looking in the distance as if he’s searching for someone. He’s always the one to issue invitation for drink in these moments.

Erik might be getting more invested that he cares to admit, actually. He notices things about Charles that he doesn’t notice about anyone else, like how he takes his tea, what tune he’s humming while filling the documents, how the hair curl on the nape of his neck. He knows that DADT has been a history for few years now, but he never came out to anyone, there was no sense really, and he doubts now that he’s developing some feelings for his employee, would be a good moment. So he observes and protects the man from the wings where is his place.

He’s good at looking. That’s why he’s one of the first people to sense that something is wrong. When he runs in the oval room with his gun already out, there are people there and Charles is sitting on the floor, backed in the wall, the little stream of blood trickling down his forehead. The first man falls down from Erik’s bullet even before all of them have time to turn to face him.

He can vaguely recognize the woman in the middle of the group and he curses when he does, seeing in her long missing Raven Xavier. Well, it would make sense that they didn’t find her if she hidden from them herself. That would also explain why their damn president didn’t push the fucking panic button under his desk. He can hear people running towards the room now and he walks swiftly in, until he’s standing between Charles and the assassins.

They don’t seem to care much about their friend’s death, not even trying to open fire on him. They must have something important still to do if they’re not shooting and escaping. And then he sees that Raven hold a gun to her own chin, death shot if she fires. He grits his teeth and furrows his brows. She’s holding herself hostage, negotiating with her brother whatever it is she came for. He hates people like that the most.

His people bust in the room from various entrances and they have the group surrounded. They would easily overpower them if it wasn’t for Charles’ order to not shoot. Of course he would do that. The fool always believes the best about everyone, even about the sister who left him alone for years only to turn up as a part of some terrorist group.

Erik hardly listens to anything she’s saying too busy keeping his senses focused on Charles. It’s only when she says ‘give yourself up’ and the fool behind him really tries to walk around him to get to her, does he spring into action. He says silent ‘Sorry’ to his employer and a friend, and shoots. The bullet gets the blond woman right between the eyes and she falls on the carpet, looking unseeing to the ceiling. Charles screams, but it’s the cue for his people to starts shooting also and soon enough the room is full of flying bullets, the terrorist group using their guns as efficiently as his own agents.

Charles probably hates him right now, but he tells himself he doesn’t care. His job now is to ensure none of the bullets will reach the man. Apparently one of the criminals is a little smarter than the rest since he turns in their direction and cocks his automatic. Erik pushes Charles safely behind him and gets the shooter in the throat before he feels the bullet hitting his chest and one more piercing his knee. He doesn’t know how he manages to stand and stay conscious for the remaining few minutes of the melee, but he does.

When the room is safe, he collapses to the floor with the knowledge that at least Charles is safe.

 

He wakes up in a white, sterile room and immediately knows he’s in a hospital. It’s good to know that years of training make him aware even under the influence of drugs. He lays awake for a long moment, before one of the nurses comes to check up on him. She looks pleased to see him awake and leaves just to get his doctor. He would be happier to be awake if it wasn’t for the fact that his leg is elevated and completely immobile. He can sense some bad news coming his way.

The doctor confirms his suspicion. The bullet to the chest fortunately didn’t injure anything vital, which was obvious from the fact that Erik woke up at all. What’s more unfortunate the shot to the knee damaged quite a lot of nerves and he’s going to have a limp from now on. They rescued as much of his leg as they could, but even modern medicine isn’t sometimes able to help.

When they’re gone, Erik lays silently for a long moment, looking through the window on his left. Without the full use of his leg he has two options now, get reassigned to the office work, or retire. He was never good with papers. It’s probably time to use that cabin near Alkali Lake. He basically lost his job, and someone who he started to call a friend probably hates him now. But at least he’s done what he was supposed to – protect Charles, and he’s alive. That must be enough.

 

The cabin is empty and peaceful, surrounded by the dense forest, with the view directly to the clear waters of the lake. Erik hates it. But, he supposes, he will have to get used to it now. It’s not like he has any other choice. He couldn’t live in the city knowing that even if something was going on, he would be unable to help. Here, he can at least be sure that no one’s going to start shooting.


	13. Hauntings: Memorabilia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik dies on a sunny day in July in 1960.

Erik Lehnsherr has been dead for fifty two years, although some would agree that it was even longer. He had an edge over those people of actually being at the place when said death happened. It would be hard not to be seeing as he was the one dying. He finally caught up to Schmidt in Argentina in 1960, when he was only 28, and the crazy man just started to create his plan of world domination and collecting his little mutant club. He managed to kill the most dangerous mad man the world could ever face, but unfortunately died in the process. He can’t say he was planning on anything else happening, especially since his life after killing Shaw was a rather flashing question mark, his only goal taken away. So it was really better that he died.

He hadn’t counted on staying on the Earth though. He knows his faith wasn’t the strongest since Nazis brought him and his family to Auschwitz’s gates, but he still thought there was something more after death than just flowing on Earth, stuck to some object and cursed to follow wherever it will go. Ironic that he would be stuck to the same coin he shoved through Schmidt’s head.

He doesn’t actually think everyone ends up like him, there would be more ghosts walking, or rather floating around and he hasn’t seen anyone yet. Well, except Crazy Julius, who is stuck to the paper weight in the library of the house Erik currently is, but the guy is clearly insane. Erik might be cruel and soulless (Ha!) sometimes, but he rather fancies himself mentally stable, thank you very much.

Speaking of the house he’s currently in, it’s the fourth place he’s been in since his death. The first one was police station after they found his and doctor’s bodies, then in the shady office of some sort of smuggler, then museum, and finally here. Xavier’s Mansion in Westchester County, New York. He was bought by Brian Xavier who apparently collected Nazi memorabilia in 1981, when the man didn’t have a wife or a son yet. Erik decided to hate him on a sheer principle that the man basically locked him in the room full of the things belonging to his captors and torturers. Erik could feel the skin around his tattoo itch even now.

Fortunately for Erik’s sanity, he discovered that he could move around his cursed coin a little further than he expected. He can’t explore the whole house, but the range is enough to allow him to spend majority of his time in the adjacent rooms, which quite luckily are kitchen, a lounge, an office, and a library. Unfortunately the library is so big that he can’t really reach everything he would want to. He doesn’t visit the kitchen very often either. Sometimes it’s nice to look at all the food he won’t ever be able to eat, but usually it’s a painful remainder of the things he can’t do.

Usually, he sits in the lounge reading something from library. He discovered he can actually pick up various things if he concentrates hard enough, but different to public opinion, it doesn’t make them float. It makes them disappear and the only way to make people know about him would be to hurl the book across the room so it would hit a wall, or someone’s head if he can voice his preference. He’s not unfeeling enough to throw books around. Even Julius isn’t that crazy.

His Nazi room isn’t visited often, especially lately when Brian is on his death bed. Radiation poisoning, Erik knew the man’s experiments in the lab would end like this. He read about it. But it’s not like he can warn anyone. He catches Brian’s son, Charles sitting frequently in his father’s office, filling out some paperwork or just sitting and looking into distance. He caught the boy, well the man by now, crying few times. He knows that Sharon Xavier died few years back, because of liver failure and Brian is really the only person Charles has.

From what he gathered from various bits of conversations around his area of residence, the man is a telepath, quite strong at that, and he never left the mansion because of that. He has a man, another mutant (And what a giddy thought it was when he discovered the facts, that he’s not alone who has special powers, that there are others like him. Then he remembered it doesn’t matter because he’s death and his good mood evaporated.), but none of them really leaves the house at all. He muses that young Xavier must be awfully lonely.

So he starts leaving him little notes on the desk. Maybe he could use some company as well. The first one says simply “You’re not alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG Now that I read this, it ends creepy as fuck. How.


	14. Alternative History - Canon historical event changed: 6, 14, 18, 28, 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Erik is six they come to America.

When Erik is six, his Mama packs their things into two big bags and takes him to the train station. Ruth is walking on her other side and by the look of her face is as equally puzzled as to what’s going on as Erik is. Papa is nowhere in sight until he is, when he runs in to them looking harried and a little scared, with tickets and passports in his hands. Erik doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he knows that for some reason they’re leaving home. It makes him upset, but he doesn’t say anything. His parents look miserable enough as it is. He spends the journey on the train squished between Mama and Ruth. He holds his Mama’s hand tight and smiles at her when she looks down at him. He doesn’t like it when she’s upset so he’ll try to be brave for her. It’s only when they get to the coast that he hears the name of their final destination.

America.

Somehow it doesn’t sound as grand now as it did when the kids in neighborhood were talking about it. This time it sounds only scary.

 

When Erik is fourteen and the war is one year gone, he reads in the newspaper about concentration camps. He runs to the bathroom and is sick for long time, acutely aware that if they didn’t leave it would be them, these corpses laying in the pile. It could be him and his family. Mama finds him bent over the toilet fifteen minutes later and they sit curled together, crying. He doesn’t know if these are tears of grief or relief, but it doesn’t matter in that moment. For week afterward everyone looks haggard and unhappy. Their life in New York isn’t the easiest, but he’s suddenly so very grateful for it.

On Sunday, when they come back from the Synagogue, he takes his family to the living room and makes the silverware dance around him. It’s a parlor trick for him by now, but it never fails to bring smiles on the faces of his loved ones. He wonders if this gift of his would be enough to save them even if they stayed. He doesn’t share the thought, afraid of the answer.

Mama tucks him into bed that night, for the first time in four years, and tells him how wonderful he is. She tells him that his gift is a present from God. That he’s destined for great things, to help people, he just needs to wait until they’ll be ready to accept it. He knows she’s right and he falls asleep with a smile on his face.

 

When Erik is eighteen, and doesn’t feel anything when Jennifer kisses him in the back row of the cinema during Cinderella, he realizes that maybe he’s not going to just start liking girls like he thought. He agonizes over it for two weeks, hardly eating and spending more time in his own room than is normal for him. Maybe there is something wrong with him, he thinks. All the other boys would be overjoyed at having Jen kiss them. Erik just wanted her to get her tongue out of his throat so he could breathe.

His Papa is finally the one to confront him about what happened. He’s embarrassed to confess the truth, but it’s his Papa and he can’t very well lie to him about something that big. They spend few hours, talking and drinking wine in Erik’s room and for the first time Erik realizes that he can have a friend in his parent as well. He falls asleep with his head pillowed on his father’s shoulder and when he wakes in the morning there is a book waiting for him downstairs. It’s thin and battered, and he knows it was read in secrecy by more than one person.

He doesn’t know if he is homosexual per se, but it seems to worth checking.

 

When Erik is twenty eight and works in the local car shop, Mama starts stoking on cans and bottled water. The cold war isn’t a new thing, but the tension between US and USSR increases with every year and there are whispers about nuclear war coming. Erik and Ruth usually roll their eyes when they hear someone mention it, but he sees how tight his sister holds Misha and knows that she too is afraid of losing her home again. Once was more than enough.

Erik loses another boyfriend to argument about war and decides that Americans aren’t worthy his time. They all want war, not realizing how disastrous and horrible it really is. He plays with Misha instead, babysitting for Ruth when she needs some time alone with her husband, and pretends everything is good with the world.

 

When Erik is thirty, the man with an English accent knocks on his door with the proposition of work for CIA. Erik laughs in his face and throws him out. But he thinks about it. He thinks about how old his father looks lately, and how his mother used to say he’s destined to help people. Maybe preventing another war was that something he got his gift for.

When he knocks on the man’s, Charles’, door later in the evening, there is no surprise on the face greeting him. But there is a chessboard set in the middle of the room and a cup of coffee just as Erik likes it. Erik takes a deep breath and opens his eyes again. This time he sees possibilities.


	15. Apprenticeship: The trade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles always admired Erik.

Charles sits on the steps to the workshop looking at Erik’s back, the man’s muscles flexing as he raises the hand with a hammer once and again. Erik got really good in fixing sword and what not and Charles is pretty sure that his father debates giving his practice over to his young apprentice one day. Not that Charles would mind. He has no idea about how to even start work on anything and he probably would break himself in half if he actually tried to lift one of the hammers his father and Erik use to work metal with.  
It would also mean that Erik stays with them for much longer time than his apprenticeship requires him to, and Charles is more than okay with that. He might just have a tiny, little crush on the other man, but it’s mostly harmless. He doesn’t even approach him all that often, just- looks. He talked with older man enough to know that he’s intelligent and full of useful knowledge, unlike Charles himself who knows only what he read in his books. It’s not really his fault, since he’s more or less forbidden from going out of the mansion, but it still rankles that he won’t be able to see more of the world than what he can observe from his window.

He knows it’s for his own safety. Their family fortune is famous across the kingdom and he wouldn’t be able to protect himself even if he wanted to, thin and wane as he is. He would be easy target for kidnapping or even assassination so it’s really better that he leaves outside world for others. It doesn’t mean that he has to like it. In comparison to him, Erik is wandered through the lands of three kingdoms, learning various trades that would help him get by in the world. He’s muscled and tanned and Charles feels more than inadequate when he looks in the mirror in the evenings and sees his thin limbs and pale skin. How could someone like Erik ever see Charles as anything else than a child, a son of employer that he has to suffer some time with?

The thought is as depressing as when he first had it, and it almost makes him get up and leave. He’s used to it by now though so he only sighs heavily and stays in place. He can at least watch if nothing else. His father passes him with a pat to the head and he frowns at being treated so much like a little child. He’s never going to get anyone’s eye, especially Erik’s, if he’s constantly reminded how inexperienced and young he is. He doesn’t listen much to the conversation in the main chamber, focused as he is on his own thoughts so the call of his own name startles him rather badly.

He walks down the stars with trepidation and it grows even more when he sees pinches expression on Erik’s face. Is it possible that father decided to not leave him the practice? Surely, he’s not going to give it to Charles, it would collapse on itself after few days only. When he hears the news he can only gape at his parent who clearly lost few of his marbles. Now he understands why this face on Erik. He winces at the implication and nods at his father.

He doesn’t mind being married to Erik if it means the man would get the trade he so rightfully deserves. It’s not like Charles has anyone else and he did wanted to get closer to his father’s apprentice for some time. Maybe not that close so fast, but it’s not like he can chose anything in his life, why would that be different. He looks back shyly at Erik and sees that mere irritation transformed into outright anger and his heart sinks. It doesn’t seem that the man wants to be wed to him. It stings a little, but Charles can’t say he doesn’t understand. What does he have to offer to someone worldly like Erik?

 

The marriage is quick and it’s soon and it doesn’t change anything. Charles has a shiny new name to add to his own and Erik has a practice waiting for him when he finishes his apprenticeship. Nothing more changed. He tries to pretend it doesn’t hurt, but it’s hard when laying in a cold bed at night and knowing that even though he has a husband now he still won’t know the warmth of other person’s love.


	16. Royalty/Nobility: Love while the night still hides the withering dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rumour of the princess in the diamond casket was a lie. There was just glass and a young man locked inside it.

The man laying inside was beautiful.

Logan snorted next to him and said something about fucking witches gossiping and spreading false rumors, but Erik didn’t care. The story about a princess in the glass casket brought them here, but really, he’ll settle for a prince if he’s going to be that pretty.

The man inside glass looked as if he was merely sleeping and not carried off in Death’s embrace time ago. His skin was pale as moonlight, but still had a flush on his round cheeks. His hair was as dark as an ebony wood and it curled in soft locks around his ears, Erik’s fingers itched to touch them and brush them away from that lovely face. And his lips, God his lips, the Prince wasn’t sure he ever saw that shade of crimson on any living person in all his travels. He touched his hand reverently to the cover of the casket, ignoring the argument going on around him.

He didn’t care what it was going to take, he’s taking this man to his palace. He can’t imagine now not waking to the lovely sight he has before him now. The little group of dwarves can stuff it as long as he’s concerned.

He caresses the glass softly and wishes he could have someone like that by his side, alive and breathing. Maybe even if he’d be lucky, the man would be smart enough to challenge him sometimes. Instead he gets the swarm of petty princesses that don’t care for anything but fashion and knitting. He feels his brows furrow, the man surely wouldn’t want to talk about knitting, but Erik’s pretty sure this is the person he could make an exception for. He could talk about anything as long as these beautiful lips would open and speak to him.

He sighs one last time and straightens up. Time for self-pity and silly wishes over. He needs a wife one way or another so he might as well have something gorgeous to look at when he’s spending time away from her. He’ll fill his duty as Cardinal Shaw pushes him into and give the Kingdom an heir, but it doesn’t mean he has to love his future wife or even spend time with her for longer than necessary. He orders Logan and Victor to pick up the casket and thinks that now he might even marry Princess Emma. At least, she knows things about military and would rather stab him with knitting needles than made him a scarf with them.

He can feel the grin stretching over his face at the thought of his future now and sees in the corner of his eye dwarves shrinking back at the sight, the protests they surely were going to make, dying on their lips. Good. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill them if they tried to stop him from taking this gorgeous creature with him.

Everything goes smoothly until during their trek through the forest, Logan kicks the back of Victor’s knee and the man falls. And with him the casket. Erik can almost see red and he’s close to just driving his sword through them both when he hear a soft moan from between the shards of broken glass. He’s kneeling at the side of unmoving body in a minute, listening for any other signs of life. It takes him a while to notice the moving chest. The man is breathing. He’s alive.

And then there are brilliant sky-blue eyes looking into his green ones and he would like to say there’s a love at first sight and everything ends happily ever after, but this just complicates everything. The man spoke and should Erik not realize that it meant he wouldn’t be able to keep him, he would be overjoyed hearing the soft baritone.

“Good heavens, where am I?”

Erik swallows and helps the man sit, noticing for the first time a piece of apple that must have surely fell from the red lips. It possibly was what kept the man at the brink of death for so long. He answers the question as truthfully as he can.

“You’re on the main road in the Magnus Forest with me, King Erik and my servants, James and Victor. You’re safe with us.”

The man looks at him with a surprise written all over his face and clears his throat before speaking.

“My name is Charles. Prince Charles of Chester. Thank you for rescuing me.”

The breath lodges in Erik’s throat. Chester was burnt down by the malevolent King Kurt two years ago and he doesn’t think this lovely man would like to know about it right now. Instead he helps Charles to his feet and leads them to his horse.

“We shall depart to my castle now. We’ll arrange for anything you’ll need there. You can ask for anything.”

If he’s last words sounded a little desperate, no one mentioned it. Charles rode, relaxed into his chest, taking in his surrounding with avid curiosity. Oh, what would Erik give just so he could keep him. But he knows there are few people in the world who would want to be married King’s courtesans and even fewer men with wishes like that. He looks onward on the road and keeps his royal face on. He’s happiness doesn’t matter, he’s doing it all for his people.


	17. Slavery: Spoon full of sugar to the medicine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At least the man didn't look like he would enjoy using a whip.

He tugs at his collar ineffectively. It has no metal in it; there is no use in trying to get it off. And still he does. Erik is a fighter. He wouldn’t survive for this long if he wasn’t. He doesn’t care what the other slaves are saying; he is not going to give up.

Slaves.

That’s what he is now, a slave. All because someone became too greedy for the lands of his people.

He watched soldiers slay his father and then his mother when she tried to protect him. His village was burnt to the ground and all the youth gathered in a square. To be tied and transported, like animals, to the city.

It took them six broken collars before they figured to stop using metal on him.

Now he doesn’t have a choice, but stand, almost naked, helpless to gaze of people going around the marketplace. He hopes he won’t be bought. He hopes he will.

It’s hard to decide when your alternatives aren’t very different from each other. What he really wants is to go back in time and have family and home again. He hopes that at least his new master won’t be fond of whips. The merchant selling them is.

There is a man standing near the platform, eying Erik with interest. He has short brown hair and there is something in his face that sends shivers down Erik’s spine. God, he really hopes he won’t be bought.

His rope is yanked and he almost falls from the surprise before regaining his balance. The man in the crowd looks displeased and Erik wonders what’s going on.

He’s been bought. He’s not sure if he’s happy about it.

The man waiting for him doesn’t look like someone who would use whips. He’s shorter than Erik, even if he looks older, but then his Mama always repeated that Erik was tall for his age. His new owner has a head full of brown locks, curving gently around man’s ears and Erik has to blink to get the image out of his head. He doesn’t know why he noticed it.

He is supposed to be bowed, but he forgot, unused to it as he is. His owner doesn’t seem to mind too much, even if the merchant is furiously hissing at Erik to stop looking the man in the eye.

He can’t. He’s never seen such a vibrant shade of blue; these eyes seem to be almost glowing. The man smiles as if he picked on Erik’s ridiculous thoughts and dismissed the seller with a flick of his wrist.

Erik can feel his binds falling away and he isn’t quick enough to curb the reflex to massage his wrists. The man doesn’t seem to mind. Even more, he takes Erik’s wrist in his hand and starts caressing the abusing skin himself.

“We’ll put some aloe oil on this when we get home.” He says and Erik relaxes his shoulders, irrationally soothed by the soft baritone. “What is your name?”

No one asked his name till now.

“Erik.”

“Hello, Erik. My name is Charles and from now on, you’re mine. I’ll take good care of you if you’ll take care of me.”

Erik can’t find it in himself to be angry at this. He could do much worse. He nods and follows Charles to the carriage that will take them to the man’s home.

Now also his, he supposes.


	18. Alternative history - Canon Event Changed: (Happening now only) Not in your sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Universe had a lot of plans drawn for this man, this is only one of them.

There is a moment in time and space that is the crossroad, leading the fates of those involved into different futures, all unknown, but bearing the consequences of one decision.

There is a moment when the fate of the whole world depends on the words and actions of a man.

There is a moment with 500 missiles suspended in the air, waiting for a signal to go back towards the men that fired them.

There is a moment when Charles Xavier has a power to save or condemn his entire race.

There is a moment when Charles Xavier has a power to keep the man he loves by his side for all their lives.

There is a moment when few ill-chosen words cost him everything.

But it is not here nor now.

This is the other road.

This is the road on which Charles Xavier chose his words more carefully.

This is the road on which he got to keep everything.

 

It’s not easy.

Charles knows it wouldn’t be, no matter what. Still, somewhat foolishly, he thought that with the Cuban Crisis behind them everything would be easier.

As if it could ever be.

They all came back to the mansion tired, still full on adrenaline. In some cases, still disbelieving that humans used them just to kill them afterwards. In some- Well, it’s sufficient to say that killing Shaw really did not bring any peace to Erik. Quite the opposite, if one wanted to know Charles’ opinion. Not that anyone did.

He had to send Moira back without her memories. He knows that he had to. It would be too dangerous for her to know their location, now that the CIA proved to be as untrustworthy as Erik said they are. It didn’t lessen the impact of the silent judgment in the boys’ eyes. Nor did it make even more silent pride in Raven’s sting less. He doesn’t know what Erik thinks about it and is not sure if he wants to know. The man has been avoiding him even since Cuba.

There are some small mercies in the world.

Not that he wants Erik to avoid him forever. It’s just easier to deal with everything that happened without the scorn and arguments. Or constant fear that the man would leave, for that matter. Charles himself hasn’t sustained any big physical injury in the conflict, but the mental one is enough to leave him weary and hurting all the time. He doesn’t have any strength to deal with Erik’s all-encompassing hatred.

He thinks that in retrospect he should know that he wouldn’t get a lot of time to regroup. Seeing as apparently Universe hates him.

 

Universe doesn’t hate Charles Xavier.

Universe doesn’t hate anyone.

Universe just makes sure everything goes according to the plan.

Universe has a lot of plans drawn.

 

Erik comes in his office one evening when Charles is just finishing the letter to his lawyer asking for an advice in opening a school. He looks tired and on edge and if Charles hadn’t felt the same way he would be sorry for him. As it is, there is no pity, only weariness and resignation that it had to happen sooner or later. Charles hoped for later, he really wanted to keep Erik by his side a little longer. Even if they didn’t speak to each other, the man was still here.

He gestures silently to the chessboard, both men taking their places in stuffed armchairs, none making a move to touch the figures on the board.

“You have been avoiding me.” Charles says, too tired to tip toe around the subject.

“I’ve been thinking.” Is Erik’s answer, saying nothing and everything at once. Charles tries not to let the dread he feels consume him. He wants to ask so many questions, demand explanation, but all he does is make an enquiring noise urging Erik to continue. “Humans hate us.”

“I guess so, yes.” Erik looks surprised at the quick agreement, but Charles’ head hurts and he’s not in the mood for this conversation again. “It doesn’t mean however that we need to commit a mass murder. I doubt it would warm them up to us.” On that he is firm. He might have realized that having a faith in everyone’s best intentions was stupid, but it does not mean he is ready to approve killing.

“You’re right.” It’s his turn to be surprised, not expecting Erik to acquiesce so quickly. “We can’t stay hidden forever though.”

No, they cannot. Not only because they would go mad, but because there are others like them out there. Charles saw them. Others, who are scared of and for themselves, just because of whom they are. Charles could bring them to Westchester, hide them all. He is not stupid enough to think that it will be enough. He chooses his answer for Erik carefully, taking time to think of it, not wanting to say the wrong thing as he is prone to do.

“We can’t, that is true. But the war is not answer either.”

“Then what are you proposing?” Erik says and Charles is startled to notice that the man means his question. He doesn’t ask just to dismiss it like he did so many times in the past months. Maybe Charles isn’t the only one who learnt something in Cuba. He leans forward in his seat, unsure, but for the first time since that day a little hopeful.

“I’m not sure myself. We need to take careful steps, but we can’t just hide.” He sighs, unsure really what it is they should do. “We need to make people aware of our existence, but not too-“

“Too aggressively?” Erik says and Charles is glad to find a little smile on the man’s face. That means he doesn’t think Charles is entirely wrong. He can only nod and watch as Erik leans in his seat also, their forehead almost touching now. “We’ll figure it out, Charles. Together, we can do it.”

Yes. Together, they can do anything. Charles smiles and when Erik reaches for his hand, he squeezes the long fingers back. They’re going to be alright.

 

There is a moment in time and space when the fate of a man hangs in balance.

There is a moment when the fate of species rest on shoulders of few men.

That is not that moment.

There is a moment when all that hangs in balance is the love of two men.

But it is not any less important for that.


	19. Werewolves: Don't worry darling, I'll take care of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One day, Charles finds a man in the forest. He takes care of him and feeds him and there's a surprising reward waiting for him.

Charles is not scared. Not at all. Why would he be? There is nothing to be afraid of. It’s just a forest. Big, dark, wild forest that he doesn’t know who inhabits… And stop. This is so very counterproductive. The forest has been standing on the edge of his mansion for centuries now. The stories that talk about monsters living in there are just that, stories. And it has nothing to do with the string of missing people. Nope. Impossible. So really, Charles has no reason to be scared. So he’s not. At all.

Okay, he is fucking terrified of going inside, but he needs the samples from the tree that is supposed to growing there and he’ll be damned if he’ll let fear stop him from finishing that experiment.

He takes a deep breath and takes the first step. From the objective point of view, it’s all very ordinary forest, trees, birds, squirrels. Some flowers and shrubbery. Nothing out of the ordinary. He takes a deep breath and relaxes. Really, all the stories about monster living in here are preposterous. Xavier family lived at the edge of it for a very long time now and Charles can’t recall any instance of one of them ever getting hurt because of it. He calms down enough to start looking for the tree he needs.

It’s only after about two hours and a trek deeper in the forest that he stops, the hair of the back of his neck standing on ends. Someone is watching him. Charles trusts his instincts enough to not dismiss it. He looks around, trying to see in the semi-darkness that fell during his walk, but he can’t discern anything unusual. He turns around with a frown and goes back to collecting the bark from the tree with his pocket knife. He stays alert.

When someone jumps on him from behind, he’s ready. The knife slides easily into the flesh of the shoulder of his assailant and the forest shakes with an inhuman howl of pain. Charles steps back, prepared to run at any moment, but the sight before him freezes him. Despite what one might think after hearing the sound, it’s a man that stands before him now, clutching at his shoulder emitting soft painful whimpers.

He’s taller than Charles, but leaner and skinny. He has broad shoulders, but his waist is almost indecently thin. Blond hair with reddish hue and eyes that seems to change colour at every little shift of light. Charles muses he could be considered handsome if he didn’t look so… starved.

He doesn’t know why the man seems to be living in the forest, if his appearances and clothes made of rags, leaves and vines are anything to go by, or why he attacked Charles, but right now he seems more pitiful than dangerous. Charles heaves a sigh and takes a step toward the man. He ignores the attempts of swatting him away and curious growls coming out from the man, and yanks the knife free with a firm hand. Another howl of pain is his answer and he feels his chest constrict. He knows that he only defended himself, but looking at the hurt man now, he regrets not using something else to do it.

Despite soundless protests he cleans the wound and puts gauze to it, tying it in place with his scarf. He sits the man on the damp foliage and takes out the sandwiches Raven made for him. He supposes he can make without them and even now, through the distrust still hanging around him, the man is eying food with the obvious hunger. Charles pushes sandwiches into his lap with a small smile and gestures encouragingly when he’s rewarded with a confused look.

The wild man falls asleep soon after curled among the fallen leaves and Charles can’t help but think he’s quite beautiful. He leaves the clearing, tucking his jacket around the stranger and brushing the reddish hair out of the smooth forehead in a sudden impulse. He goes back home and finishes his experiment with the bark.

He doesn’t forget about the man. He goes out every evening with a tray laden with food and drink and leaves it near the edge of the forest. In the morning it’s empty and somehow he knows it’s not wild animals that took it. He learns to not bring vegetables after the second night, but he stays firm on fruit and after a week it disappears too. He feels weirdly proud and satisfied, taking care of someone like that. He expects their routine to continue, but then it changes.

He comes back one morning after the first night of the full moon to find the tray completely full, not even bacon touched which is his charge’s favourite. He frowns worried and takes it back inside. He hopes nothing happened to the man.

In the evening he sits on the grass, far away from the tray to not frighten off the man, but close enough to see it. He waits almost two hours when nothing, not even animals approach it when he hears it.

The wolf’s howl.

He whips his head up in surprise, absolutely sure that there shouldn’t be any wolves in their forest. He scrambles to his feet, not keen on meeting the animal in the dark of the night when he hears the sound of snapping twigs and a pair of glowing eyes appears in the darkness above the food he brought. What shocks him is the fact that they look almost…human, if not for the light they seem to be putting off. 

The wolf starts to eat the things from the tray and Charles watches with morbid curiosity the little sausages rolled in bacon disappearing between sharp teeth. He wants to stop it, frighten it off somehow, he brought it for the man he met, but he’s frozen. Unable to do anything but observe. And then the animal finishes, leaving all the fruit, and Charles sees the eyes train on him with almost surprised widening. And then there’s a whine and the wolf scurries toward him and he still can’t move.

Oh God, he’s going to die.

The light sheds on the animal and Charles feels his mouth open in shock. It’s not a wolf like he thought at first, not the usual kind at least. It’s bigger; its spine curved in the arch that Charles as a scientist can’t help but think would be able to support the creature on two legs. The eyes are still the most disturbing. They look at him almost with recognition, thinking, conscious. Human. Before Charles can even shout in terror the creature, werewolf some part of him whispers, is right next to him and it’s not hurting him, it’s… nuzzling his hand with another whine.

Charles regulates his breathing, trying to calm down and looks at it one more time. The reddish fur glistens in the moonlight and its green eyes are looking up at Charles hopefully. It’s too skinny. With a strangled gasp Charles falls to his knees and reaches shaking hands to the muzzle of the creature. It can’t be, but he doesn’t find another explanation. His charge, because he’s almost absolutely sure now that this creature is the man he found in the forest, happily bumps its head into his palms and he starts to mindlessly scratch behind its ears.

He eventually falls asleep, with a predator in his lap who by all means of logic should have killed him by now, lulled by the deep, satisfied purr shaking them both.

In the morning he wakes up with a naked man in his lap and very carefully doesn’t think about him in any other way than that of his ward. The man stirs and nuzzles under Charles’ chin with a happy hum when he realizes where he is. Charles has no other option really than to cuddle him to his chest. He can’t let this man stay in the forest. For his own and for other’s safety. He sighs and addresses the man, although he’s not sure he’ll be understood.

“From now on your name is Erik and you’re living with me.”

His answer is a satisfied rumble of Erik’s chest.


	20. Werewolves: Animal Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik starts acting strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of the previous post in this universe, so better not read without that one first. Also, this is pretty much rated R, so careful.

After the first full moon it’s easier to get Erik to enter the mansion. The man sniffs everything and seems pretty satisfied with whatever it is he’s scented, because he relaxes and lets Charles pull him to the wing they both are going to be live in from now on. He doesn’t get close to anywhere Raven has been for a long time and starts only after he’s a witness to Charles berating her for breaking one of the ancient vases and she stands before him head bowed, shuffling her legs to and fro. Somehow he doesn’t have any problems with her after that, even going as far as seeking her out for play. It’s all a little baffling for Charles.

Soon he discovers that Raven, dissatisfied with non-verbal cues, started teaching Erik to speak and read. He turns to be surprisingly quick learner and after the third month with Xaviers he spends every free moment in a library. He doesn’t speak much, but Charles has a feeling that it’s more a matter of preference than actual ability. It frustrates his sister to no end, but he has to admit he doesn’t mind all that much. Being a part of the scientific community he’s used to innate chatter and unnecessary babble and it’s quite nice to just be with someone for a change.

And it’s easy to be with Erik. The man doesn’t expect anything that Charles wouldn’t give him anyway, is silent but unusually affectionate. They gave up giving him his own room after the first week when he just spent his nights curled under Charles’ door whining until he was let in. Charles thinks it must be some deep fear of being abandoned by someone who saved him and doesn’t mind. Quite the opposite, it’s a real pleasure to wake up with someone safely cocooned in his arms. It makes him feel important, like he’s protecting Erik. From what, he doesn’t know, but he tries not to think about it too much.

Erik still doesn’t eat anything that Charles didn’t prepare and bring for him and it’s all very amusing. Especially since Raven wanted for so long to have a new taster for her cakes and Erik doesn’t only refuse to touch them, he looks at them with such a blatant distrust that it’s rather clear he thinks they’re going to murder him. Charles isn’t sure they wouldn’t.

Affections are nice too. Charles has never been in a proper relationship, the closest he came was with Moira during his Oxford years, but they were mostly friends who had sex. His parents weren’t the warmest people. So it might be said that he’s starved for affection. A little bit. And it’s easy with Erik. The man doesn’t think anything about rubbing his cheek against Charles’ or giving him an eskimo kiss. Sometimes he’d leave light kisses over Charles’ jaw or nuzzle his face and neck. It’s never anything less innocent and as he grows used to these touches he begins to reciprocate them. He’ll never forget delighted expression Erik wore after Charles nuzzled him under the jaw in the morning for the first time. Even if it lead to the man following him for the whole day.

It all comes to the head few months later when the snow just begins to fall. Erik is jumpy and twitchy. Keeping to himself and not touching anyone. Charles is a little hurt by this, but mostly he’s worried. It’s not like Erik, this distance. But he lets him be, unsure if any advances would be welcome.

A full moon comes and Erik disappears. Usually he comes back during the day, for a meal and a bath, but not this time. Charles stays calm for the first day and tries to pretend he’s working and not staring at the forest, willing his friend to come out. After the second day goes by without a trace of Erik, Charles straps his father’s old gun to his belt, takes a torch and goes out to look for him. He ignores Raven’s pleas to at least wait until morning, unsure if the passing time doesn’t only make it worse.

He treks through the forest, wincing at the crunch of snow under his boots. If anyone was here, he’d have no way to surprise them with his presence. The first place he visits is the clearing when they first met and then, finding it empty, he goes into direction from which Erik emerged then, hoping that it means these were the man’s hunting grounds. After an hour he’s almost sure he’s not only not going to find Erik, but he’s also very much lost. He swallows the hysterical laugh wanting to escape him and walks forward, not knowing if he has any other choice.

He’s almost at the next clearing, hopeful he’d find his way with stars, when the wind blows into his face making his close his eyes against the icy flakes. When he opens them he can clearly see Erik in the clearing. And he’s not alone.

There’s another wolf with him, black with the thick fur, bigger than Erik is. He’s circling Erik, clearly waiting for something with his tail in the air, the tip of it turned down. Charles watches with detached fascination until he realizes what that means.

That creature wants to mate his Erik. And Erik is shaking, unsure of what to do, frightened, but clearly aroused. He almost moves his tail out of the way of his entrance, deciding to try it when the clearing echoes with an angry growl.

It takes Charles a few seconds to realize it came from him.

Erik falls to the snow at once, flattening his ears and curling his tail protectively over himself, whining pathetically, but he’s not who holds Charles’ attention for now. The other wolf paused, staring at Charles. He knows the stance means that the creature is waiting for the moment to attack him and assert his dominance in the territory. Over Charles’ dead body. The gun slides from its holster easily, the safety clicking off strangely loud in this night. If the legends are to be true, the bullet won’t kill the wolf, but it will certainly hurt like hell.

Charles points the muzzle straight between the wolf’s eyes and calmly waits for the opportunity to shoot. His hand doesn’t even twitch. The wolf bows his head and backs down with tail between his legs, running off, probably to find another mate. And Charles hides his pistol securing it again and turns to Erik.

The heat would certainly explain why he was so distant lately and his behavior suddenly makes much more sense. It’s Charles who poises a question now. Why did he interrupt two wolves? For a moment there, he felt… possessive, as if Erik was his to take alone. But he never thought about the man this way. Only… Only he realizes that he did. All the touches, sleeping in the same bed, for Erik they were signs of partnership. Some animalistic part of Charles recognized them as such too. Now the same part looks at Erik and feels betrayed, angered. Erik was his and he tried to give himself over to someone else.

It’s… terrifying, to find such instincts and thoughts in oneself. Charles turns and leaves the clearing before he can do something he will regret even more, deaf to the howls and whimpers behind him. He doesn’t know how he manages to stumble to the mansion, lost as he was, but the first thing he does after coming back to his bedroom is to lock the door.

He sleeps soundly, exhausted by his worry and his nightly walk. In the morning he wakes to fists pounding on his door and high-pitched whines. He rolls to his back and looks at the ceiling wondering what he should do. No part of him wants to get up and open this door. Animalistic part of him howls that his partner betrayed him; rational is very busy freaking out over the presence of the former one to care about anything else. There is a sound of body sliding over wood and then little hitching sobs, but it’s only the rough, whispered “Charles” that makes him finally move. Erik is his friend and whatever happens he doesn’t deserve to be locked out from something that is very much also his room by now.

Charles opens the door and looks down at the shivering, crying form of this man that turned his world on its head. He kneels down and reaches out his arms and in no time at all has Erik weeping into his shirt, clinging like he never plans to let go. They stay like that until the man calms down and moves shyly, nuzzling under Charles’ jaw hesitantly as if he’s going to be pushed away.

Charles sighs and gives up on being the better man. He cups Erik’s face in his hands and angles it up, pressing a deep kiss to the thin lips, licking inside when they open on a gasp. When he leans back Erik looks at him dazed, panting and again voices only one word.

“Charles.”

It’s all a little too much for this basic, primitive instinct of his and he pulls Erik into the room, spreading him over the soft carpet, not even thinking about the bed few feet away. He nuzzles under the man’s jaw and mouths at it, scraping his teeth over the soft skin. Erik whimpers delightedly under him and every sound is like an electrical jolt sent straight to his cock.

He bites on the junctures of Erik’s neck and shoulder, drawing blood and sucking and licking it clean, making visible bruise. Marking Erik as his. He’s going to be suitably mortified by it all when he regains higher brain functions. But for now he relishes in the long moan that comes out of Erik and moves his hands over the man’s torso. Long past are the days when Charles could count his ribs, the muscle lean and strong, trembling under his fingers. And it’s all because Charles took care of him, provided for him. It sparks a deep satisfaction deep into his chest and he bends down licking at the erect nipple, making Erik shout and arch into his mouth. He obliges, lavishing attention on the hard nubs until the man is mewling with pleasure and his cock is smearing precome on Charles’ shirt.

He reaches to the man’s hole, wondering vaguely when he stuffed the jar of Vaseline he uses for his lips lately. And then his brain short-circuites, because Erik is wet. Wet and dripping, slicking Charles’ fingers when he rubs them over the rim. His scientific side is crooning in curiosity, wondering why, how does it work, if that means Erik is sexless, if he can bear children, or maybe he’s a female wolf. But it’s much quieter than the rest of Charles’ brain which only insists that it’s awfully hot and Charles needs to be inside now.

But when he pushes the tip of his finger inside, Erik tightens, crosses his legs and whimpers like a mantra “No, no, no, no”. Charles takes his hand away as if he was burnt, leaning back and putting as much distance between them as he can. My God, what was he attempting to do; he was sexually assaulting his friend. No matter how the man was enjoying it, it was wrong. He’s supposed to take care of Erik, protect him and provide for him. Not- Not this. He scrambles to the door and runs.

He doesn’t go back to the room until he’s sure that he’ll control himself. He packs the tray and carries it to Erik, determined to feed him and nothing else. But he can’t really ignore it when Erik lays motionlessly on the covers, curled on himself, not even reacting to Charles’ entrance.

He puts the tray on the nightstand and sits on the bed, careful to not move into Erik’s space too much.

“Erik? I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise. I brought you food.”

He puts his hand hesitantly on the man’s shoulder and is rewarded with him turning around, hiding his face in Charles’ hip and curling his body around Charles’. He almost thinks they’re out of the woods when Erik nuzzles his shirt up and licks at the exposed skin. Charles goes absolutely still, hardly even dares breathing. His voice when he speaks is much rougher and lower than it usually is.

“Erik. What are you doing?”

The man answers him with a whimper and pushing his hard cock into Charles’ leg. It’s not enough this time.

“With words Erik.”

That earns him a more annoyed whine and the man looks up at him with pleading eyes, but he stands his ground. He doesn’t understand the situation at all by now. Either Erik is going to explain what’s going on or he’s not going to do anything. Finally the werewolf huffs and answers with stilted words, his voice clearly unused to making them.

“Want. Want Charles. Inside. Need mate inside.”

Charles could do it all after the first word and only the sheer force of will keeps him unmoving after Erik calls him his mate.

“You didn’t want it before. You said no.”

Erik doesn’t answer for a very long time, hiding again in Charles’ flesh so he busies himself with running his fingers through the reddish hair, their hue as beautiful as it was when they first met.

“Never before. Only Charles. Scared.”

Charles rolls them over and leans over Erik, not daring to believe in what was just said. If he understands correctly that means Erik is a virgin. It’s not that he didn’t want Charles to touch him, it’s that it’s new to him and he got scared. Charles lets out a joyous laugh, not even trying to contain it. Maybe what he’s doing is wrong, but Erik wants it and it’s enough for Charles.

He presses his lips to Erik and is rewarded with the man’s clumsy attempts to kiss back. He lets his hands trail over the lithe body, scraping his nails lightly over already hardened nipples and barely touching the stomach with his fingertips. Erik erupts in giggles and tries to squirm away, but Charles doesn’t let him. Instead he holds Erik’s hipbones and nuzzles at the mark he made earlier. He kisses it and the man moans happily, wantonly, unconsciously spreading his legs for Charles.

He obliges, moving one of his hands to the pert ass and moving his fingers softly over the wet rim, smearing the slickness over it and finally pushing the first finger inside. Erik whines and tries to close his legs again, but Charles is prepared this time and holds them open, situates himself between them so Erik will have no way of crossing them. The man flushes and trembles, but moans when Charles starts to move his finger in and out of his hole.

Adding of second and third finger is gradual, slow and Charles makes absolute sure that Erik is ready for it before pushing the next in. Meanwhile he busies himself with licking and nipping at the chest laying before him and is more than happy to do the same to the smooth throat when it’s bared before him.

Finally he withdraws his fingers, relishing in the disappointed whine Erik rewards him with and pulls his shirt over his head. Next to go are his trousers and for a while he just sits on his haunches, naked, looking at Erik, his flushed panting form, his spread legs, his entrance dripping slick all over their sheets.

He hums pleased and moves Erik’s legs to his waist where the man obediently crosses them behind his back. He slides his cock in with little difficulty, Erik suitably wet and stretched, and has to pause, sheathed to the hilt. Erik is hot and tight inside, clenching around him and it takes an iron will to not come at once. The man is arching beneath him, pushing his hips back, and trying to impale himself further on Charles’ cock, letting out the most delicious moans. Charles’ control snaps.

He drives into Erik with short, fast thrusts and the man meets him for every one with a groan falling from his lips. If Charles didn’t know better he’d never guess that he was a virgin.

Erik comes untouched and his passage clenches around Charles, milking his orgasm from him only few thrusts after Erik. He moves to pull out, but Erik’s thighs tighten around him and he emits unhappy whine so he stays inside for how long he’ll please.

Later, they lay curled in bed together, Charles feeding Erik meat and grapes from the tray when Erik deigns to speak again. He doesn’t say much, but what he does warms Charles entirely and makes him grin stupidly. Erik places his head on Charles’ heart and murmurs softly.

“My Charles. My mate. My alpha. Love.”

This night for the first time since their meeting all these months ago, Charles falls asleep with his cheek pressed to the soft fur, being surrounded by a deep, happy purr.


	21. Mirror verse: Turn turn the clock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik couldn't run away. And even if he could, there would be nowhere to run to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Very hard dub-con (might be even considered non-con), mentions of a genocide, kidnapping

Erik couldn’t move.

That in itself wasn’t new. He didn’t bother to move much even since that fateful day on the Beach in Cuba when he lost the use of his legs and all his hopes for the better future. He wasn’t exactly naïve. He knew that a peace between humans and mutants wouldn’t last long if it ever would be. But he was hoping to build a safe haven for his brothers and sisters, a school maybe. And have two most important people of his life by his side. But it seems it was never meant to be.

“You do know that when you think like that it only makes me more reluctant to release you?”

Ah. And there was the reason for his utter immobility.

Charles Xavier, a mutant of the Omega level, a telepath. Erik’s ex-best friend and current kidnapper.

The man scoffs and squats in front of him.

“Really, Erik? That wasn’t nice.”

“Maybe if I wasn’t kept here as a slave for you to use my powers as you pleased, I would be more gracious in describing you.”

The only answer he got was a deep laugh and then Charles backhanded him. Hm. He must be really pissed. Erik licks the corner of his mouth, bleeding slowly and looks the telepath straight in the eye. He doesn’t usually bother with physical violence, relishing in the grip his mind has on other. It seems not today.

He hisses when his head is wrenched backwards by the grip on his hair. He has a sudden, dangerous urge to spit into Charles’ face, but it might not end well for him. The man smirks, clearly picking up on the thought and Erik curses one more the fate that shoved them on the path together.

Really, Erik just wanted to discover and help their people.

Charles wanted to kill. He always wanted to kill, hurt, make others bleed. Sebastian Shaw was the first. Entire world was next. Now, the only one who was left was Erik. And the telepath so relished in causing him pain.

The hard kiss and teeth breaking his bottom lip are a surprise, but not entirely unexpected. Charles does that sometimes, when he thinks Erik gets too lost in his own mind. Left with no one to talk to, but himself and his captor.

“Shut up.” The words are growled into his mouth before Charles kisses him again, although it can hardly be called a kiss anymore. “You think too much.”

It prompts a bitter laugh out from his abused throat, Miss Frost delighting in mentally torturing him until his screams turn bloody.

“And what there is left for me, but think, Charles? You took everything else.”

Before he can even blink he’s frozen again and Charles is looking at him with such a furry in his eyes that he mentally flinches away. But he softens after a while, his eyes hiding hurt this time.

“But you still have me.”

He doesn’t dignify this with a response. This is not Charles he wanted by his side. This is not the man he spend days with on a road trip collecting other mutants, evenings playing chess, exchanging glances that promised of a bright future together.

This is Professor X who didn’t hesitate to use Hank’s ingenious device to kill every human on the planet; who changed their world into dystopian society ruled by him and his followers.

Erik gained the place by the side of the New World’s King. He gained kisses and soft words whispered about love and loyalty.

He lost his legs, his friends, his sister and the love of his life.

When the strike comes again, he expects it, but does nothing. There is no sense anymore. There is nothing left for him, but this. Maybe it’s his punishment for failing to save this one beautiful soul he encountered in Miami waters.

The kiss pressed to his lips is soft and chaste, but it doesn’t change anything. Nothing matters anymore.

Charles kneels and weeps into his useless legs and Erik just sits there frozen, looking over the landscape of a kingdom he never wanted to have.


	22. Assassins: Diamond mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik didn't think he would end up in situation like this.

Erik ducks behind a support beam and reloads his gun again. This was supposed to be an easy job. There was a sniper rifle, a mark, and seemingly no security unit in sight. He should have known better than to trust Angel’s recon. In this business, the only person who you could trust was yourself, and he should have remembered that after so many years with Shaw. It’s damn Charles’ fault for getting under his skin with all his compassion and big blue eyes and his ‘Erik, but the world is so much better than this’s. As if. Erik should have known that the world is not a good place, and surely not a place he can believe in personally. He shouldn’t have lowered his guard.  
He has only himself to blame for not realizing it sooner. And now he has Charles fucking Xavier using his gun like a goddamn pro somewhere out there, looking for his mark. What an irony that his mark would be Erik himself. The only person he put his faith in years, and it of course he gets burnt. Didn’t he learn with Shaw that you can’t rely on anyone, that your only ally is yourself? Yes, he did. But it was so nice to forget about it just for one single moment, to let himself be lulled into a false security by cornflower blue eyes and wide smile.

He should have known that it was unusual for Charles not to talk about his job. The man talked literally about everything, if he could he would probably never shut up. So the lack of this certain subject should ping on Erik’s radar right away. But he didn’t talk about his own profession either so he was happy to drop it in exchange of no questions about where he got money from. He doubts he could have guessed his lover is a security guard to a very important business woman anyway.

Emma Frost was Erik’s mark for two months now. There was no occasion to get her, since she always stays indoors, locked in her mansion in New York, secluded from the world. This was his only shot, the one business meeting in a year where she would have to sit near the window. There was supposed to be no guards. There was supposed to be no Charles here. Erik squeezes his eyes and counts to ten.

He doesn’t know what to do. Logical thing would be to jump from his hiding spot and shoot the man. He would hit the bulletproof vest for sure, but it would give him precious time to get the hell out of here. But shooting Charles filled his blood with ice, and he knows he won’t be able to do it. If that was the man’s plan all along, string him for months just to make him unable to shoot when his life hangs in balance, than he succeeded quite spectacularly.

He’s burnt anyway. Failure in such a high profile case means he won’t be getting any more. Maybe they’ll even send a cleaner after him. He doubts Azazel will be able to kill him, but he would try and it would probably end in pain on both ends. He won’t be able to continue his business now. So what’s there for him when he doesn’t have his job? He would say ‘Charles’ just few hours ago, but that’s obviously untrue. He wonders if it was true in any point in time. He was a fool if he thought someone like Xavier would voluntarily choose to be with someone like him.

He feels his lips twist in a wry smile and he brings his gun up again. At least he can choose how to say goodbye to the world. He takes the bullets out and hides them into his jacket pocket. He won’t need these. He’s not shooting Charles. God only knows why and when, but he apparently fell in love with the man. Even if it was just a farce for the other man, it was real for him and he can’t pretend otherwise.

He takes a deep breath and moves from behind the pillar, cocking his gun and pointing it at the man’s chest. There’s a sound of fired gun and he closes his eyes. He didn’t pull the trigger.

The bullet hits him square in the chest so he can at least know it’s not going to take him long to die. He falls back and the gun falls from his slack fingers. He thinks he can see a horrified realization dawn on Charles’ face, but he supposes it’s only wishful thinking on his part.

But there is no way he can imagine the yell of his own name and someone falling to their knees beside him. The world is getting darker but he’s pretty sure he can see Charles’ face hovering above him. He’s okay with it being the last thing he ever sees. He closes his eyes and let the darkness consume him. At least Charles is unhurt.


	23. Lawyers: The hopeless case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles had some heavy cases in his career, but this one takes the cake.

Charles loosens his tie and looks across the table to his client. Erik Lehnsherr, born 20th of October 1970, tall, lean built, strawberry blond hair and green eyes. A man who apparently killed his wife not two weeks ago if the evidence the prosecutor is now collecting is anything to go by.

The body of Emma Frost Lehnsherr was found on the side of a highway. She was brutally raped and then someone sliced her throat. Next to it there were signs of tires which were found to be matching to the Lehnsherr’s family car. Then there was an antique knife that was given from the generation to generation in the family and on which the remnants of her blood were found. As far as everyone was concerned the case was already closed. But there was one problem.

“I’m innocent. I didn’t fucking kill her. Why would I do that?” Ah, yes, that.

Mr. Lehnsherr stubbornly refused to confess and Charles had to admit at least one thing was true. The man had no motivation for what he did. According to the neighbors the family life of Emma and Erik was a happy one. They didn’t indulged in the public signs of affection which would be an indication of healthy sexual life, but according to people that knew them, they were at least very good friends. They all stated that it was impossible that Erik was behind the murder of his wife and refused to testify against him. Well, all except Sebastian Shaw, a man who lived across the street.

Charles sighs and rubs his temples. As far as he’s concerned, his client is innocent. But what does it matter what he thinks when the prosecutor have steel evidence against him. He’s going to do his best, but his best might not be enough in that particular case. God, why did he want to work in some private law office is beyond him. He wanted to help poor innocent people that couldn’t afford expensive lawyer and he ended up defending murderers and thieves for the most part.

Maybe he was so sure Erik wasn’t guilty so he could finally think that he defends someone good. Oh well, it’s not like it matters now.

 

The case is one large cluster-fuck from the very start. With every court meeting, it seems that Erik is more and more in trouble. Charles is only barely restraining himself from exploding in tears and apologizing to the man profusely. He’s good, but Angel Salvatore who is a head of prosecutor’s table is ruthless, cunning woman and she doesn’t hesitate to jump on any chance she has to prove Erik’s guilt.

It all goes pretty much in the same way until the second to the last meeting. Halfway through, there’s a knock on the door and the middle aged blond woman stands behind it with her shaking hands on the small boy’s shoulders.

“Katherine?” Erik stands and says tentatively and Charles shoots him questioning gaze. “She’s my next-door neighbor.” The man explains and they share a puzzled look.

The woman, Katherine Summers, declares that her son was witness to the murder and wants to testify and the whole room erupts in whispers. The judge calls to calm three times before it takes. The boy, despite his young age, is allowed to stand as a witness and what he says is a tale of violence and blood.

It also clears Erik’s name completely.

Charles is pretty sure it would have to take more than that to actually win the case if Shaw wouldn’t get up from witness’s stands at the moment his name is mentioned and wouldn’t try to run away. That sealed his fate. Charles pretended not to notice Erik’s shaking shoulders and the hand the man surreptitiously placed over his eyes.

Erik is declared innocent and the first thing he does is to go to Katherine and her son, Scott, and hug them tightly. If it wouldn’t be unprofessional Charles would go and do that too. They saved the case and what’s more important, they saved Erik form years in jail. But then Lehnsherr comes back and hugs Charles too, thanking him profusely for all the hard work.

Charles blinks back the tears and swallows the words admitting that no matter the amount of work he did, he would still loose the case and land Erik in the cell. No need to ruin the man’s good mood.

He’s happy that at least this time he had a good man beside him on the bench. And that that man could be saved. He couldn’t ask for more.


	24. Alternative Fandom - Music Video: Bell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles is maybe a little tiny bit intimidated.

Erik is- something wild. He tries not to show it to Charles very often, or if he can help it at all, but it shows nonetheless. Charles finds it awfully cute that the man tries to hide his real nature from him. It’s not like you can really miss your fiancé changing into a creature with horns and goat legs. Unless you’re blind or smashed, but even when you’re latter it’s a little weird fantasy to have. Especially since it’s almost always ending up in a goat in the backyard. Which is bizarre in and out of itself.  
So when Erik’s friends pull him out of the house again for one of their quests to outdrink everyone in the city, Charles smiles sweetly at his partner and ties him a bell around the neck. He’s not the master of magic yet, he’s still learning, but the spell that will guide his lover home no matter the form, was one he perfected. He wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened to Erik because of his enchantment.

They live in a curious world. It’s one filled to the brim with magic of every kind, but one that is stubbornly set on ignoring that very magic as often as it can. And if it can’t, it still does it. Charles doesn’t really understands it, but he’s pretty sure he prefers people to believe that they drunkenly dreamt about satyr fucking them then having them raze the city in their search of the individual, just to set him on fire or something. People can be cruel like this sometimes.

Charles doesn’t understand what kind of people would dream about creature like Erik fucking them either. He himself, even if in love with the man, is often intimidated by his true form and prefers his lover to set it free away from home, even if it means a little bit of infidelity. He will get used to it one day and these arrays into the city won’t be necessary, but for now… For now, he’s okay with letting Erik free his wild nature on some unsuspecting humans.

They can probably deal with sores of any kind better than Charles ever would.

He really would like to be able to just accept that sometimes his fiancé frowns hooves and horns and enormous sex drive, he really would. It’s just very difficult when you’re just a meek little sorcerer in the making. He’s not the bravest of people no matter what Erik repeats often. It’s not a feat being with the man when he’s not accepting all of him. Charles knows he’s being the biggest hypocrite on the planet, but he can’t help it really.

Erik scares him.

Not that he would ever admit so much to the man. He already has some complex over his real form, there’s no use in giving him more reason to dislike it. He should accept himself as he is. Even if Charles is unable to. Yet. Because one day he will, he just needs a little more time.

He sighs and goes out when he hears the bell tinkling at the door. Sure enough, there’s a goat standing before it and it looks curiously at Charles before going to chew at his tulips.

So maybe the satyr form isn’t as bad as this one. At least it has nothing against Charles’ gardening. And it’s much easier to get inside the house. What would neighbors say if they saw a goat in their garden? They’re not even permitted to keep a cat. Which Charles thinks is awfully unfair. He would love a familiar and that silly rule doesn’t let him.

He puts the goat in the bathroom and knows that it’s going to eat all toilet paper before the magical energy runs out and Erik comes back to himself. He’s going to complain about remnants of paper and grass in his mouth again.

He does, only few hours later. Charles kisses him silent and then agrees that it’s the awful taste to have in one’s mouth. Erik gives him a knowing look and kisses him again.

Charles supposes he can live with a sex-crazed satyr and a goat if it means he gets to have Erik too.


	25. Alternate Fandom - Anime: Piano in the Music Room #3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His piano skills are the reason he was even accepted to the Academy.

Long gone were the days of the first Host Club and its infamous president Suoh Tamaki. The number of members stayed the same with each generation, but after the school-wide outcry for equality, it tended to have few female members next to traditional males. It also widened the club’s customer base a lot, as now boys could join the playtime as well. Every generation had its own distinctive members, and this one’s most one would probably be its president – Charles Xavier. The boy was born and raised in England, his father pure-blooded French aristocrat, before the family moved to Japan, deciding to overlook their business here personally. There was a weight resting on the boy’s shoulders, but you couldn’t tell from the way he smiled and laughed every day as if there was nothing wrong in the world.

Erik admired him for it. His own scholarship was enough to make him lose nights of sleep, the only reason he ever was in Academy his musical talent. Really, busy as he was with his studies and perfecting his language he possibly wouldn’t even notice the existence of a club like that, if it wasn’t for one fated afternoon. He just wanted to find an empty musical room to practice his piano. He didn’t expect to find a club of people like that behind the door to the third one. It was actually quite the hardship to get out of there after he got in, seeing as none of the members were particularly keen on letting potential customer go. But he managed somehow.

He gazes now across the vast lunch room at the happy group surrounding tables in the middle when the club is entertaining swarm of school kids. It’s not like he would have any money to pay for their services anyway, he muses working on another math problem. Especially not for Charles’. And the boy is the only one Erik’s interested in anyway. He’s quite gorgeous, if Erik’s opinion matter, with brown locks, pale skin, and really blue eyes. What’s more, he’s always cheerful, unlike Erik, and judging by the things he talk about and his grades, he’s very intelligent too. But what really made Erik fall for him was the moment he heard the other boy play piano. It was such a pure, beautiful sound, it was as if it called right to Erik’s soul.

Erik dreams about playing duet with him. Not that it’s going to happen.

It’s possible that he puts a little too much thought into the non-existent friendship (because not any romantic relationship, Erik’s not that delusional) with Charles, but he blames it on the loneliness. It’s not like he has a lot of friends to distract him from his own head. Well, it’s not like he has any friends. The time he spends studying and practicing his music takes a lot from his social calendar. And there’s also a fact that people attending Ouran Academy are mostly rich kids, who don’t understand what a hardship or hard work means. Not yet anyway, Erik is sure that they will, once their fathers and mothers give them the companies they’re heirs of.

It’s not that he’s bitter. It’s just that it’s hard finding friends among people who don’t understand why he doesn’t buy lunch in cafeteria. Like he could ever afford it. The truth is, there are days when he can hardly afford something to bring for lunch. His parents in Germany are doing all they can to support him, but they weren’t very well off in the first place, now it only got worse. He tries not to feel guilty of it.

He raises his head again and sees Charles dancing in the middle of the room with his vice-president Moira. He shouldn’t even entertain any possibilities of the boy noticing him. For these people he could as well be a part of wallpaper, for all the attention they give to him. And it should be like this, it’s not like he has time for friends anyway. He’ll be fine alone.


	26. War: Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and Charles as soldiers on the front of World War I.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part of an on-going series of RP ficlets based on the play "Journey's End". This piece however was written in away that allows it to stand alone without the knowledge of previous parts or the play.

The attack comes early in the morning, earlier than any of them suspected it would. Erik is woken up by the sound of gunfire and doesn’t waste the time in getting his gear on and running out of the dug-out to give orders to his man. This is one of the hardest things his position makes him do, sending hundreds of young man, believing they’re here to bring glory to their country, out to death. He hates propaganda, this awful political tool, lying to get boys fresh out of schools, filling their heads with stories about romantic war. Reality is nothing like that; war is bloody and dirty, consisting of spells of waiting and death. He hopes he could be able to save all his men, but all he can do is to give them orders to keep in division, watch each other’s backs and try not to die. He can see fear and shock on their faces and curses the stupid war once more in a short time. He can’t even give them any platitudes; everything he would say would just be a lie.

He goes back to his dug-out and enters the kitchen to tell Mason his orders. He really hopes the old cook survives; he got kind of attached to the cheeky, nosy man. He gives the man a quick hug and ushers him out, having to take an inventory of the supplies they have left before he leaves for the front line. He runs out of the kitchen few minutes later and puts his backpack back on. He sees McCoy frozen in the doorway and feels his jaw pop with frustration. Yes, that’s exactly what he needs right now. Charles is standing nearby, glancing between him and McCoy and he prays to any deity that would listen that the man will move so he’ll have at least a short moment with Charles. Apparently it isn’t mean to be and his love leaves, pressing a single sheet of paper into his hand. He grits his teeth and nods at Mason as he also leaves.

He shoves the paper into his inside pocket, not having time to read it now, but wanting it close to his heart. Hoping that maybe Charles took his letter to heart and this is just love confession, meant to get him through the battle today. He strides angrily to McCoy and doesn’t even give the man a chance to start spouting his excuses before he starts his lecture. He doesn’t need it right now, they’re under attack, Erik’s love is out there somewhere, probably five seconds from dying, and there are thousands of men just waiting for orders, which he is supposed to be giving out. And he can’t, because he has to take care of one coward. He makes McCoy leave and muses that even if the man will try to run now, he’s probably going to get shot. He doesn’t wish this fate on anyone, but he has little hope for the man to survive this attack.

He pushes the heels of his palms on his eyes and tries to get a hold of himself. He can’t lose his head now, his men need him, and Charles needs him too. He runs out, automatically reaching for his gun and shooting the first German soldier he can see. He starts barking orders, running along the battlefield, careful not to be too close to exploding bomb. No more than ten minutes in and his uniform is already covered in soot, dirt and blood. Fortunately, the last is not his yet. And then he hears Charles’ yell. He can feel his heart stopping for a second and he yells orders at the closest people to keep the German at bay, running in the direction he heard the damn sound from.

Charles is laying face down on the ground near the remnants of German bomb and even from the distance Erik can see the crimson blood staining the back of his jacket. He can feel the sob forming in his throat and swallows it back down forcefully. This is not a time for tears. He just hopes the man is still alive. He falls to his knees near the body and forcefully stop his hand from shaking, so he can check the pulse.

Yes, God, thank you, he’s alive.

He closes his eyes and bows his head, sending a quick prayer to God, thanking him for allowing this beautiful man to live still. He takes a fortifying breath and squares his shoulders. Charles might be alive now, but it won’t last long if he’ll stay bleeding on the battlefield. Erik shouts at the nearest soldiers to come and help him get their officer to the dug-out. They hurry to comply, not even trying to question the need to do so, they all liked Charles, he remained them of home. They carry him down and lay him down on the Osborne’s old pallet. Erik pulls the chair closer, planning to wait there until the man finally wakes and maybe even longer and tells the men to call medics as soon as they are able to.

 

He takes Charles’ hand in his and squeezes it tight, keeping tears at bay, praying that the God who saved the man from death two times now would allow him to live still and maybe go home now, where he would be safe. When Charles finally opens his eyes, clearly confused and in pain, Erik gives out the relieved breath he didn’t know he was holding and stands immediately, looming over the man a little.

“Charles, just don’t move okay? Medics will be here any time now.” At least he hopes they will. He sent the men for them some time ago now, maybe there was some trouble. God, he hopes there wasn’t. Charles frowns and Erik can feel that he doesn’t know what happened even before the man actually speaks.

“Erik? What happened? There was this blasted pain in my back... should I just walk it off?” Charles says and then foolishly tries to sit up before Erik can even open his mouth to answer, least of all try to stop him. He gasps in pain and Erik can feel his heart breaking. Erik swallows back a scream building in his throat and pushes Charles back on the bed, keeping him pinned by the hands on his thigh and lower stomach.

“I just told you not to move” He manages to croaks out and hopes that maybe this time, Charles will listen to him. Charles’ face is twisted in pain, clearly the sleep wore off completely and he’s left with the full blast of the injury.

“I was hit in the same spot during Rugby once, it was terrifying because I couldn't feel my legs but I got up and walked it off, I just need to walk it off, right? I can't feel my legs, Erik.” Charles babbles, like always when he’s nervous or scared and Erik can feel his heart breaking completely. Surely, Charles doesn’t really think it’s the same, surely he can remember the bomb. “I just need to walk it off, right? I can help still.”

Erik wants to weep. This is what the damn propaganda did. It made these young men think that there is nothing more heroic than die protecting their country and countrymen. There is nothing heroic in death. And Erik wants, he needs Charles to live. There is nothing to help the men outside with. But he won’t be doing Charles any favors with cursing about their government now. He needs to be here with Charles. So he tries to joke a little, trying for levity, maybe trying to make his friend feel a little better.

“I don't know, Charlie. You know I was always rubbish at biology. Let's just wait for doctors and not move for now, hey?” He even manages to smile, but it quickly slides off when he sees Charles doesn’t even listen to him anymore.

“I think if I just walk it off-“Charles tries to sit up and his words turn into a blood-chilling scream of agony. Erik bites his lip and lurches up to keep Charles still, deciding to change tactics. The man doesn’t want to listen to his friend, maybe he’ll listen to his commander.

“Goddamn it, Xavier. I said stay still. Can't you take the order from your Captain?” Charles lays back obediently and tries to catch his breath and Erik curses again the medics who apparently aren’t coming.

“Sorry, sorry. Oh God, Erik, I can't feel my legs, is it cold to you? I'm a bit chilled.” Oh, God, no. Is it possible that the shrapnel damaged Charles’ spine? Erik can feel the humidity in the dug-out and feels his heart constrict with fear when he realizes why it is that Charles feels the chill.

‘Please, God, no, don’t take him away from me.’ He thinks and shoots one more glance at the entrance, foolishly hoping that medics would suddenly arrive like a gift from God. He brushes Charles’ hair out of his forehead and he can feel the temperature. He closes his eyes against the tears, his and Charles’, and start praying again. “You're cold? Do you want me to fetch you an extra blanket? I can do that. Just say a word.” Charles is starting to shiver and Erik swallows heavily. Fever is not a good sign.

“Erik- Erik- am- I'm going to die, aren't I?” Charles stutters and cries out in pain again.

“No!” He says vehemently, trying to convince Charles as much as himself. He clenches his jaw and looks at the man seriously. “You're not going to die and that's an order of a highest level. Do you understand?” He softens his tone and adds “I won’t let you.” He has little illusions that it will be enough, but he’s going to try his damnest, even if he’s going to fight the Grim Reaper himself.

Charles smiles and Erik can see tears streaming down this lovely face, taking away dust and grime covering it with them. “I was so foolish, Erik. I love you.” Charles chokes on a sob and Erik has to remind himself that it would be absolutely disastrous idea to kiss him right now. “It keeps getting colder, could you fetch a blanket, please?”

Erik nods and then nods again, overeager to do anything for his love at this point. “Yes, of course, love, right away.” He stands up and runs deeper into the dug-out, hoping above anything that he’d have someone to come back to with the blanket. He collects the blankets from the closest beds and runs back when he hears Charles yelling. He barely keeps the curse on his lips in. He covers the man with the blankets, making sure they would be pinning his legs at least a little to the pallet. “What did I tell you about moving?” He asks, not really expecting an answer.

Charles covers his face with his hands and breathes heavily, sounding as if he’s keeping sobs at bay. “Sorry, oh god, Erik I don't want to die.” He says and Erik feels cold dread curling around his spine. Even if Charles is weak with injury it still takes Erik considerable amount of strength to pray his hands away from his eyes so he can look him in the eye.

“You're not going to die. I swear to you, I'm not going to let you die if that's the last thing I'll do in my life.” He means it too; he means it with all his heart. He’ll give Charles his own spine if that’s what it’ll make the man survive.

“Erik, don't die, try not to die. Don't-“Charles erupts into sobs and bites on his fist to stifle them. Erik takes it away carefully and speaks in a soft tone.

“Let’s make a deal, okay? I promise not to die if you'll promise me the same thing. How about that?” He knows he has no right to make promises like that, but he’ll say anything if it’ll only make Charles go home alive.

Charles nods and something in his chest loosens, hopes starting to bloom between his ribs. “I promise.” The man says and then looks up at Erik with desperate expression. “Kiss me?” Erik knows the man probably thinks they won’t have another chance despite the promise he just made, but somehow he doesn’t think it’s true. He leans in and kisses Charles softly, brushing his thumb over his cheekbone, smearing the dirt there.

They can’t just stay in here forever though. There’s a battle outside and Erik doesn’t know who is going to win, if there is going to be winner at all. But the fact is, they are in a hole in the ground right now and it would be too easy to get buried if a bomb lands too close. So he leans back and presses a soft kiss to the bridge of Charles’ nose. “Stay here and don’t move. I’m going to fetch medics.”

“Okay, I won’t- I won’t move.” Charles says fisting his hands in the blankets and biting his lip. This is serious and Erik needs a little stronger confirmation.

“Promise me you won’t try to move.” He says seriously.

“I promise.” Charles nods and adds quietly, his voice tight with pain “It hurts too much.”

Erik swallows heavily. “I know.” He says, knowing it’s hypocritical of him to say so. He has no idea. He can’t help the desperate tone that takes over his voice. “But they’ll help you. You just wait.” If he won’t believe in that, there’s nothing left for him but just sit and cry. He can’t afford to do that. He presses one more kiss to Charles’ lips, trying to will the man to live, and runs out of the dug-out.

 

The battlefield outside is in utter chaos. There are bodies everywhere, sound of gunfire and explosives going off everywhere, soldiers shouting, orders, screams of pain, pleads to God and to enemy. Erik runs, jumping over corpses, not letting himself think about the youth of their country laying on the ground looking up to God, asking why them. He pauses when he sees McCoy’s body, the half of his head missing, apparently hit by a bomb and has to swallow acidic bile forming in his throat. He didn’t wish that for a man, God, he should have let him go when there was still a chance. He comes across the bodies of the two soldiers he sent for medical help and has to blink back tears. He knew something went wrong. He’s surprised he’s still okay with everything that’s happening around.

It’s as if he summoned it with a thought. The grenade swishes next to his ear and he sucks in a breath, quickening his run. He’s not going to die, dammit. He promised. And if he dies, there will be no one to tell medics about Charles and then he’s going to die too and Erik will not let him. There is no way. The explosion is like a heat wave on his back and sides of his face and he falls, helmet rolling away, hitting his head on the butt of a riffle abandoned nearby. He can feel the blood streaming down his forehead, but it’s not important. He checks his back and breaths relieved when he can’t find any wounds.

He stands up and continues his journey, this time a little slower, but a little more careful about where he’s going. He has his revolver at the ready and he has a chance of using it more than few times, not always on the enemy. He’s not going to mention to Charles or to anyone the bullets he put in his countrymen’s heads just because of their dying pleas. Who is he to leave them to hours of slow, painful deaths? He knows commander wouldn’t approve, but commander doesn’t have to listen to the man with his legs missing yelling to him to send him finally to heaven. A quick death is the least these men deserve.

He finally stumbles to the medical tent on the outskirts of the field. Its white walls with red cross out of place in the grim of its surroundings. The commander and high generals are sitting there, discussing some things with doctors and Erik can feel his blood boil. They all are dying out there, putting their lives on the line, and these asshole are just sitting here, in one place when they cannot be touched by the enemy, the Red Cross untouchable for everyone. Before he can take a step towards them however, there’s a hand on his chest and the burly man in the sergeant’s uniform points him to the bed in the corner.

He turns around, not really knowing what to expect. Mason is laying there, arguing in low tones with a doctor who is in the middle of bandaging his leg. The same leg that always gave the cook troubles during the moister mornings. Erik is so relieved he could almost choke with it. He strides to the stubborn man and doesn’t even acknowledge the doctor at first.

“Stay still, Mason. Do you want to leave me without such a talented cook?” He says while putting his hand on the older man’s shoulder. He’s given a blinding smile and is pulled into one-armed hug. He’s not ashamed to admit that he needed it. He whispers low, only for Mason’s ears to hear. “Stay here, you understand me? I can’t go forward alone, I need you.” The older man gives him a tight smile and a nod and lays calmly while the doctor finishes tending to him.

Before the man can go take care of someone else, Erik catches his sleeve and pulls on it.

“Doctor, there is a man in the officer’s dug-out, lieutenant Charles Xavier. He was heavily injured in his back and can’t stand or move on his own. He needs medical attention and most probably to be taken to a hospital.” The man gives him a tight nod and strides to another medic and the sergeant who stopped Erik from getting his ass kicked by the general.

“Charles is injured?” Mason asks and Erik sits next to him, suddenly not being able to support his own weight anymore. “How bad is it?”

“Very bad.” Erik shakes his head and moves his hand over his face, wiping the blood away from his eye. “The shrapnel hit his spine. It’s a miracle he’s alive.”

“McCoy?” The older man squeezes his hand and he gives a small smile, so very grateful for this one small kindness. It was a long time since he was the one comforted. He’s only sad that he doesn’t have any happy news for the man.

“Dead. Bomb took half of his head. I don’t know about anyone else.” Mason nods and it occurs to Erik that the man didn’t expect anything else. Just the sight of Erik was probably an incredible miracle in the old cook’s books.

“Captain Lehnsherr?” He nods and turns just to see the mysterious sergeant. “Sergeant James Howlett, sir. I’m the one responsible to get injured soldiers here. I’ll be going now to fetch Lieutenant, thank you for informing us about him.” They share a look at the pause. As if Erik wouldn’t. Even if he didn’t love the man like he does, it’s only human thing to do to inform the medical tent about wounded soldiers, so they can help. “I also have orders for you from general, sir.” He can’t help the grimace and Mason squeezes his hand warningly before he can say anything.

“At ease, soldier.” He says and stands up, extracting from Mason one more promise that he would stay in the tent before he’ll be okay again. “What are the orders?”

 

Orders are apparently to get back on the field and fight till he’s dead. At least, that’s how they sound stripped of all the niceties. After a while he loses count of how many bullets he put into other people’s brains and hearts. He never aims for anything else. It would only prolong the death and he might be a murderer, but he’s not a cruel one. He ducks from the enemy projectiles and jumps away when he hears the characteristic sound of the bomb going off. He barks orders at soldiers around him and slowly, with the help of other officers, they manage to push the Germans a little bit back.

‘Let’s be thankful of small victories.’ Erik thinks. ‘They’re the only things left for us.’

After some time he hears the distant voice of Sergeant Howlett and makes sure that soldiers around him know their orders and positions before sprinting to where he heard it. He just wants to make sure Charles is still alive, that’s all.

“Lehnsherr!” Howlett yells and bares his teeth, evidently displeased with Erik leaving his post. But he can’t not know or to not exchange what might be his final words with Charles. So he pleads.

“Give me a minute, Sergeant, please.” Logan looks at him long and Erik is pretty sure he can feel the man reading his mind. Then finally he nods.

“A minute.” Howlett says and Erik knows he can’t ask for more. His men need him and he wouldn’t be able to stay longer even if he was allowed to.

He walks backwards, trusting Howlett to make sure none of them will be shot during their walk to the hospital in the nearby school. He leans over Charles and is afraid to speak. The man is laying with a face contorted in pain, but with his eyes closed. Erik doesn’t want to take away even a slight moment of rest from him, but he cannot not use this chance.

“Charles?” He says, half-wishing he won’t be heard. But Charles’ eyes snap open almost immediately and although there are a little unfocused, clearly looking straight up at Erik. His voice is strained and only the presence of others keep Erik from touching him.

“Erik? Erik, are you alright, oh god, don't die.” Charles says frantically and he can’t help the chuckle that escapes him. It might be a little wet, but no one’s going to mention it at the time like this.

“You're telling me this.” He says and makes his voice more serious, brushing his fingers over the death grip his friend has on the blanket. “You don't die. Okay? You promised.”

“You did too.” Charles says jerking his head and smiling slightly. He’s so busy marveling at this smile that the sudden grip on his hand takes him completely by surprise. He should take it away, but he can’t bring himself to. Trouble or no trouble, he won’t take away this small comfort away from Charles. The man squeezes his fingers and says softly “Come home.”

He smiles shakily, maybe a little more moved than he should be by these simple words. Home is something he hasn’t thought of in a very long time. “I will.” He promises and squeezes clammy fingers back.

“Lehnsherr!” Howlett hurries him and he grimaces. The man might be kind enough not to mention to anyone the way him and Charles acted toward each other, but he’s right in a way that he should be getting back to his post.

“I must go.” He tells Charles and watches as the man starts shaking. He longs to just hold him for a minute, but even without the people around it would be dangerous for Charles. The man mouths ‘I love you’ to him and he swallows and blinks back the tears before he mouths the confession back. They can’t afford anything more, but maybe it’ll be enough for now, before they meet each other again. He swipes his hand over his mouth a little foolishly and presses it to Charles’ hand, hoping the man will recognize it for a caricature of a real kiss Erik wants to give him. With one last glance at the beloved face he’s off, back into a nightmare of death and blood.

 

Everything after that is a blur. There is only one thought going around Erik’s head: ‘I can’t die yet. I need to see him again.’ It’s not much, but it’s enough to get him through the day, full of grime and blood and screams of agony of men he is made to command. Why did he ever think going to war would be a good idea? He can’t remember it when he shoots one more of his own men, listening to pleas for death. He can’t remember when he pulls the trigger on an enemy soldier, a boy who doesn’t look old enough to be out of school yet. He doesn’t remember when he’s swept of his feet by the bomb going off nearby and killing ten of his men at once. He can’t remember when he closes eyes of the German soldier, the body cooling under the setting sun.

The only breath they are allowed to get it just after the sunset. Both sides somehow came to mutual agreement that it’s the time to tend to their wounded and regroup in the trenches. And still, this breath is full of soot and the smell of decaying and it curls Erik’s stomach unpleasantly. The man around him try to joke, talk, pretend, get back a shred of normalcy, some are even eating. He can’t. He reaches inside his jacket in search of cigarette and feels his fingers brushing over paper. He sighs and gets it out with shaky fingers, reading in the dim light of the fire.

_“Erik, love, I fear neither of us will survive the attack. I love you, don’t forget it. Maybe we’ll see each other on the other side._

_All my love, forever yours,_

Charles” Says Charles’ familial scrawl and Erik can feel hysterical laughter bubbling inside his chest. That’s reassuring alright. He wants to just sit and weep, but he can’t even do that, his rank stripping him from even this small mercy. He can’t afford his men to see him breaking down; it would only lower the morale. So he hides the paper back in his pocket and lights the cigarette. He stares into distance and wonders if the note is at least half true. Charles is safe now, but Erik can’t say the same about himself. At least he’ll die knowing the man loves him.

The morning brings another battle, more dead, and more loses. By now, Erik can’t even remember the reason for this war. He stumbles upon a body and looks down, only to discover the man isn’t dead yet. It’s a young man, probably Charles’ age, wearing German sergeant’s uniform. His shot in the thigh and there is a blood seeping from between his ribs, probably from a shrapnel. He’s bleeding to death, left to death by people who didn’t even notice he’s missing. Erik purses his lips and calls for the nearest soldiers. He gives the order to get the wounded man to Red Cross tent and yells at them louder when they look as if they’re going to argue with him. They raise him and start trekking through the battlefield, Erik following them to make sure they will arrive at the tent safely.

The man opens his eyes and looks at Erik blearily. He croaks out “Danke, guter Mann.” and Erik watches him as he’s swallowed by the white wings of the tent’s entrance. He’s not a good man; he just does what he’s able to in the situation he was pushed into.

He goes back into battle, because what else is there for him to do and shoots someone who maybe the wounded soldier’s brother. He regrets he didn’t even have time to ask about the man’s name. And then there’s a characteristic swish and he looks up just to see a bomb going straight at him. There won’t be enough time to escape fully, but he can minimize the damage. At least he can try. He promised Charles not to die; he’s going to at least try not to be proved a liar. He runs to the right and jumps away when he hears the bomb hitting the ground. The blast pushes him even further away and he can feel the burning in his arm. What’s worse he can feel pain in his left eye and he can only scream before the darkness takes him away.

 

He wakes up shortly to see soldiers carrying him away and he can swear one of them has German uniform. Maybe it’s some kind of pay-back from God. He can’t see almost anything with his left eye and everything he can is coated in a thick layer of blood. His arm is broken and burnt, but he doesn’t think it’s unsalvageable. He can only wonder if everyone has the same clarity of mind when they’re in pain before he passes out again.

When he comes to again, he’s laying in hospital bed. His arm is tightly bandaged and he has gauze over the whole left part of his face. He can see Mason sitting on his right. The man’s leg is still bandaged, but he can clearly walk again, even if with help of the cane standing next to him. Erik can feel the smile forming on his lips and he doesn’t mind so much that it reaches only one side of it when the old cook answers with similar expression.

“Gave me quite a scare, eh?” Mason says and although the tone is teasing, Erik knows the words are nothing but truth. He’d apologize if it was his fault, if there was anything he could have done not to land in this position. But this is war; they have little influence over their fates anymore. They chat aimlessly for a while, none of them touching the subjects they really want to talk about. Mason leaves, ushered away by an angry nurse and doctor comes, telling Erik about his conditions.

They don’t know if he’ll regain sight in his left eye and it should bother him more than it does. The nerves in the left side of his face are also damaged and that means he won’t be able to move it much. His arm is broken and the skin is burnt, but there is no harm on deeper level. There is nothing that would keep him off battlefield for long, and even less that would make him useless in the war. The dreams of going home with Charles that he entertained for one shameful moment break down around him and are carried away on the tray the doctor takes from his bedside table.

Two days later he’s given a new uniform. The closer inspection reveals that there’s a crown sewn on his sleeve instead of his old three stars. He feels numb inside. What does that promotion mean when he’s going to go out on the field and do his old job anyway? Nothing, it means nothing it all and just makes higher-ups look better. He puts it on, employing the assistance of a nurse when he can’t push his hand through the sleeve. She secures his whole arm tightly to his side and he helps not to grimace at the pain shooting up his nerves. He hopes it’ll heal soon. He lays the jacket over the arm carefully, as to not jostle it, and goes to the commander’s tent to report.

The battle is over, but the war is not. Commander tells him that they won, but Erik doesn’t know what victory is anymore. They are going to be moving soon, chasing the enemy, hoping to deal the deciding blow and he swallows back the words building in his throat, of how and why and with whom, because sanding the handful of soldiers they have left in the battle is exactly like going on that damned raid, a wish for death. He doesn’t say that, it’s not his place to. He salutes and leaves, going straight to the hospital, waving to Mason when he passes by the medical tent. He’s leaving soon; he should say his goodbyes to Charles. God only knows if they’re going to see each other again.

 

Charles is sleeping on the bed, pale between white sheets. He’s tied down with thick leather strap from the waist down and upon asking the doctor Erik finds out it’s so he wouldn’t injure himself when he wakes up and tries to move. He probably won’t walk again. Commander allowed him to tell Charles that he’s going home and he feels like an unfortunate messenger right now, probably going to have to be the one to tell the man about paralysis also.

He sits on the chair near the bed and just watches his friend. He looks so peaceful, utterly devoid of pain or any worries that plague Erik’s own mind. Soon, the man will be on his way home and will finally be safe. Erik feels awful thinking that, but he’s almost grateful for this injury that took Charles’ legs, as long as he knows for sure that the man is going to be alive and well back in the Xavier Mansion. Raven will take care of him.

He doesn’t know when the fatigue and pain overwhelm him and he falls into a doze, but he’s woken up by Charles’ groan and he immediately leans forward with the man’s name on his lips. Charles blinks and squints as if he can’t really see anything and what does Erik know, maybe the drugs have this effect on him. The man croaks out his name and then coughs and Erik is swift in getting him a glass from water from the bedside table, putting it to his lips with shaky hands. He didn’t even notice when the trembling started. Only when the glass is empty does Charles tries to speak again.

“Are you alright? What happened?” Are his first, most important questions, and then he foolishly tries to sit up and gasps in pain. Erik pushes lightly on his shoulder, having put the glass away and speaks more calmly than he actually feels. He hates the fact that he still has to keep this façade, even in front of one person who would maybe understand everything churning inside of him.

“Don’t move, please.”

“I won’t.” Charles says with tightly squeezed eyes. He opens his eyes and smiles slightly, looking at Erik in wonderment. “You’re clean.”

It’s such an abstract statement that he wishes he would be able to at least chuckle at it. He can’t even muster a smile. He nods instead and sits back on his chair, not taking his eyes away from Charles. “The battle is over.” He says and doesn’t add ‘But the war isn’t and I’m probably going to die in the next one anyway.’

“Are you alright, what happened to your eye?” Charles sounds worried and it’s the least he wants, to add to the man’s own problems.

“I’ll be fine.” He says and doesn’t even try to pretend he’s not lying. He hopes Charles has enough drugs in his system that he won’t notice. “How are you feeling?”

“I- I still can’t feel my legs.” Charles says and bites his lips and Erik can feel the bottom of his stomach dropping out. The moment of truth came then. There is no use in postponing it. He doesn’t know how to break such news, are there even some ways in which it would be less painful? He swallows and covers Charles’ hand with his, trying to offer some small semblance of comfort, even if he’s all out if himself.

“I’m sorry, Charles, but you won’t feel them again.” He says and even in his own head cringes at how cruel it sounds. He should have tried to say it in some better, softer way. He’s weary and tired, but if there is anyone still worth the effort it’s Charles. He should have tried harder.

“What do you mean?” Charles says grabbing his hand and holding onto it tightly. His breath quickens and Erik can recognize the first sign of the panic attack. If he won’t be able to diffuse it soon, he’s going to be pressed into calling the doctor. “In Rugby I just had to walk it off, if I could get up and walk a little.” The man’s voice trails off quietly and Erik knows this is the moment when he needs to start trying. He blinks and slides onto the bed, bringing Charles’ hand to his chest and squeezing it tightly.

“Charles, calm down, you need to breathe calmly.” He says and knows it sounds trite and stiff. It’s no wonder the man doesn’t react to his words at all.

“God, Erik, I- if I could just get up, I can walk it off. The feeling will come back, that's what happened in rugby, it didn't pierce my spine, right? Just knocked me off my feet?” Charles says shaking his head and sounding more pleading with every uttered word. He hates that he has to be the one to say it and that he can’t even comfort someone he loves properly.

He closes his eyes and apologizes, because it’s the only thing he can do right now. He’s sorry that Charles ever enlisted. He’s sorry the man had to go the wretched raid. He’s sorry he was in a wrong place at wrong time when that bomb went off. He’s sorry he wasn’t quicker with getting doctors, maybe it would help. He’s sorry the medicine isn’t advanced enough to restore Charles’ spine. He’s sorry he’s not able to do anything, but be sorry.

“It just knocked me off my feat, right?” Charles repeats and Erik doesn’t know what to do anymore.

“A piece of shrapnel pierced your back causing irreparable damage to your spinal cord.” He says looking at Charles seriously. He adds in a more desperate voice the one sentence that got him out of the field alive. “You were lucky you survived.”

Charles looks like he’s falling apart and the softly emitted “Oh” might be a bullet straight to Erik’s heart for all the ways it hurts. He doesn’t know what to do, but he can’t let this beloved man of his to break down.

“Thank you, so much, for living, Charles.” He says, summoning a shaky smile to his lips, hoping to bring the man’s focus to this one very important thing.

Charles finally squeezes his hand back and for all that his voice is wet with tears when he says “I couldn’t leave you all alone.” at least he’s not in that headspace he was a moment ago. His presence is good for something finally. And then he remembers that it won’t last long and his smile slips.

“I'm leaving in the evening. And you're to depart to England as quickly as your doctors will see fit.” He says and sees all the progress he just made vanishing in front of his eyes.

“But- I- you can't-“Charles stutters out and clutches at Erik’s hand as if it’s his only lifeline. Who knows, maybe it is and Erik just gave out a death order for the only person who still can make him feel. He closes his eyes and leans toward Charles, desperate not to look at his beloved when he lies to him.

“I'm sorry, but we took great loses, we must relocate quickly and every soldier, especially officer counts.” He says, for a while pretending that that’s exactly what they’re doing. That they’re not following the enemy, condemned to death by their own superiors. He opens his eyes and brings back the small smile he saves only for Charles. “You'll be fine at home. You'll have Raven and her husband with you.”

“I want to have you with me.” Charles says moving his hand over Erik’s uninjured cheekbone and sighing heavily. They both know that the only way for that to happen would be desertion.

“You know I can’t.” He says with a sigh and means it mostly. He can’t abandon his men, he would be cruel to do so. He knows that if Charles said a word only, he’d gladly go with him.

“I know. I just wish... it's selfish really, but I wish you didn't have to go.” Charles says with a sniffle and Erik doesn’t have to lie when he answers with “I wish I didn't have to go either.”

“You'll return though, to England?” Charles asks shakily and he can feel his heart breaking once again. It’s only a dust by now. How can he tell this man that he’s not sure he’ll ever come back from this hellish nightmare? To say so would be to send his friend to the brink of hysterics again. So he nods.

“I'll do my utmost to come visit you in Westchester.” He says and wishes it could be more. That he could say ‘I’ll come back and live with you and love you for as long as you’ll let me.’ That there would be no lie to this statement and no social repercussion even if it was truth.

“Visit?” Charles says worrying on his lip and Erik is pushed out of his daydreams. The man doesn’t sound too happy and Erik’s gripped with the fear that he’s just worried about a friend now. He’s afraid that now that he’s going home he doesn’t need Erik and his love anymore. He tries not to sound too hurt when he answers.

“You don't want me to?” It’s okay if Charles doesn’t. It would actually be easier to face his death knowing no one would really wait for him to come back.

“Of course I do, if you visited I'd be in danger of trying to keep you there forever.” Charles says quickly and giggles a little hysterically. Erik relaxes a little and sighs.

“It would be ill advised of you to do so.” He says thinking of all the rumors any longer stay of his would cause. These would be not only of Charles, but of Raven also. He’s the woman’s ex-fiancé, so to speak, his long stay at her home would only bring forward questions about infidelity and shame to her husband.

“Yes, desertion is frowned upon isn't it?” Charles says rubbing a thumb over Erik’s knuckles and it takes him a moment to realize what the man is talking about.

“I meant more in the sense that it would raise questions. I don't want you to get even more hurt.” He huffs, hoping that he won’t have to explain it in more detail.

“No one will care.” Charles says with a frown and Erik is suddenly reminded that even though the man was through a lot, there is still this innocence and a belief of good in people in him.

“You would think so.” He says, smiling genuinely maybe for the first time since he woke up.

“Raven and Sean won’t care.” Charles hastens to reassure him as if it’s the deal-breaker. Maybe in his mind it is. He snorts and adds in amused tone “Raven probably knew before I did.”

Erik is ready to believe the last one not because of anything else but because he remembers how observant younger Xavier could be. It’s one of the things Erik liked in her in the first place. Charles pulls their intertwined fingers to his lips and presses a kiss to Erik’s knuckles and he can feel himself tremble. It’s not good, he can’t break down in front of Charles, he needs to stay strong for the man.

“Charles, do not tempt me with empty promises.” He says meaning everything from the promise of a home to the promise of being loved.

“They're not empty. Even if we have to leave. Erik, I'd rather be with you.” The crux of it is, the man probably means it.

“Two of us against the world?” He asks, injecting it with irony, because he doesn’t want to show how much he wants that, how much he wishes it would be possible.

But Charles doesn’t rise to bait. He sighs and kisses Erik’s knuckles again and utters a single word of confirmation.

“You’re serious.” Erik says, completely stunned and for the first time since he woke up letting himself feel hope and pushing the despair aside.

“I- yes? If- if that's not what- if I've misread the- I-“Charles says, shy and unsure, flushed to the tips of his ears, as if he really could misread Erik at any moment in time. Erik squeezes Charles’ hand as hard as he can, possibly a little too hard, but he can’t let go, not now.

“Yes. Okay, yes. Together.” He says smiling widely and not even caring that he probably won’t ever be able to give Charles his full grin again.

“Really? That's what... you want?” Charles says and his smile is the most beautiful thing Erik has ever seen. This is exactly what the hope is born from.

“Yes. More than anything in the world.” He says, nodding fervently, wishing to be able to tell Charles exactly how important this is to him.

“I'm glad. Erik, I can hardly believe.” Charles trails off, choked up and Erik looks around, checking if there are any awake patients or doctors going around. When he sees there’s no one, he leans in and presses a hard kiss.

“Never, ever stop believing that I love you.” He says reverently and feels his heart skip a bit when he sees the smile blooming on Charles’ face and the soft laugh the falls from the younger man’s lips.

“I might tell you the same thing.” Charles says and Erik feels a pang of guilt that he ever doubted him. So he promises to always remember that from now on, meaning it all the way from the bottom of his heart. He remembers something he wanted to talk to Charles about and straightens up, adapting a little more serious tone.

“I read your note.” He says with a sigh and is little gratified when the man seems to be struggling to remember what was in it. It’s a little pleasing to know that it might have been written in a heat of the moment, when Charles was simply overwhelmed with fear.

“That seems a lifetime ago. I'm glad it didn't come true.” Charles says which only proves to Erik that he didn’t really mean the words. But he needs to say the next part, if only to make the man understand the consequences it could have.

“I'm glad of it too. But it didn't exactly lift my spirits when I was curled in a hole trying not to get shot and not knowing how are you.” He says sighing, wanting to tell the truth and simultaneously not wanting it. He ends up down-playing it a little, but still sticks to the honesty.

Charles moves slightly and Erik doesn’t even have time to register why before the man cries out in pain and falls back on his pillows. “I'm sorry,” his friend says “I was... I was in a dark place. Now that... that something has happened I feel a little better.”

“What did I tell you about moving?” Erik says, arranging Charles comfortably on the pillows again. He leans in and hugs the man to him lightly, careful not to aggravate his injuries. “Don't worry. I got out. We're both alive and that's all that matters.”

Charles hugs back, even if it’s obvious it takes a lot out of him, his face still scrunched in pain. “We're alive, yes, yes that is the most important. You've survived this long.” The man says and Erik can’t believe how much faith his friend has in him. He only hopes it’s not displaced.

“You must be strong for me, okay? So I have a home to come back to.” He kisses Charles forehead and leans back, sitting comfortably on the bed.

It figures that’s the point where Private Summers runs in to announce they’re departing and Erik is needed on his post. He swallows back a sigh and then a curse when he feels Charles’ fingers tightening around his and Private still waiting in the doorway. He can’t even do much now that they have audience to reassure his love.

“I must go now. Stay safe and healthy, okay?” He says smiling softly and adds “Give Raven my regards.” half meaning it and half explaining to any ears listening why would he spend so much time by Charles’ bedside. What they do with this short sentence is for them to decide, he couldn’t care more.

“I will, on both counts. Remember your promise.” Charles says thickly and all Erik can do is assure him he will and squeeze his fingers again before leaving. He wishes he could have at least leave Charles with a kiss.

Now that he’s out of his beloved’s comforted presence, back in the midst of misery and death, he once again remembers why was he so sure he won’t be coming back from battle again. He puts on his cap and gets on his horse, turning it around in the direction he ought to take. He couldn’t help one last glance in the windows of the hospital, somehow hoping that Charles will catch his gaze somehow even through the distance and glass. He sighs and trots slowly forward. On to the ingenious attack orchestrated by his commanders.

He swallows and hides his eyes, least his men will read in his face that he doesn’t think they’re going anywhere else than for their deaths.


End file.
